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A Thousand, Years 
of Yesterdays 


Author of Rosicrucian Principles for the 

Home and Business, The Mystical 

Ufe of Jesus, etc. 




Printing and Publishing Department 


Copyrighted 1920 by 


AH rights reserved 

April, 1929 

November, 1929 

November, 1931 

November, 1935 

January, 1940 


March, 1945 


November, 1947 

November, 1952 

The Rosicrucian Press, Ltd., 
San Jose, California 

April, 1955 

Printed and Bound in U. S. A. by 
The Pantagraph Press, Bloomington, 111. 



Introduction , . 9 

I The Strange Diary 11 

II Through the First Veil 16 

III Beyond the First Veil 21 

IV, In the Shadows of the Past 28 

V Transition 41 

VI Resurrection 47 

VII The Threshold 56 

VIII Illumination ............. 69 

Announcements 76 



1 Rosicracian Questions and Answers with Complete History 

of the Order 
II Rosicracian Principles for the Home and Business 

III The Mystical Life of Jesus 

IV The Secret Doctrines of Jesus 
V "Unto Thee I Grant . . ." 

(Secret Teachings of Tibet) 
VI A Thousand Years of Yesterdays 

(A Revelation of Reincarnation) 
VII Self Mastery and Fate with the Cycles of Life 

(A Vocational Guide) 
VIII Rosicracian Manual 
IX Mystics at Prayer 
X Behold the Sign 

(A Book of Andent Symbolism) 
XI Mansions of the Soul 

(A Cosmic Conception) 
XII Lemuria The Lost Continent of the Pacific 

XIII The Technique of the Master 

XIV The Symbolic Prophecy of the Great Pyramid 
XV The Book of Jasher 

XVI The Technique of the Disciple 

XVII Mental Poisoning 

XVIII Glands Our Invisible Guardians 

XIX Along Civilization's Trail (Out of Print) 

XX The Word Went Forth (Out of Print) 

XXI What to Eat and When 

XXII The Sanctuary of Self 

XXIII SepherYezirah 

XXIV Of Gods and Miracles 

(Other volumes will be added from time to time. 
Write for complete catalogue.) 


One may or may not believe in the strange theories of continuous 
existence of personality, and one may reject the more or less un- 
scientific theories regarding the probability of femcarnatwn, but one 
cannot reject with the same absoluteness the apparent completeness 
of memory's records. Almost everyone has experienced the sudden 
conscious realization of facts released from the storehouse of memory 
involving incidents long forgotten in the conscious recollection; and, 
coupled with the release of such facts as one knows were stored away 
within the present span of earthly life, there comes an array of in- 
cidents, associated and unassociated, which could not have been stored 
in the memory through any experience in this life. 

Psychology offers as an explanation for the possession of such seem- 
ingly inexperienced facts, the theory that in our dreams we charge 
our minds with experiences which are not consciously realized at the 
time, or possibly are forgotten in our waking state, but which return 
to consciousness by association of ideas. Another theory offered at- 
tempts to explain the mass of inexperienced incidents and ideas which 
come from the subconscious mind, as being the result of the process 
of imagination. 

Shakespeare wrote: 

And as imagination bodies forth 
The Form of things unknown the poet's pen 
Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing 
A local habitation and a name. 

But such theories leave the cause and nature of dreams and imagi- 
nation unexplained. To conceive of the mind mechanically creating 
from nothing those wondrous things which the imagination of man 
has given us in the past and present, is more difficult than to conceive 
of subconscious experiences or experiences of the mind, stored away 
in the memory, resulting from forgotten realizations. 

Laying aside the prophetic nature of some dreams, and likewise 
the prophetic nature of many things seemingly drawn from the imagi- 
nation, we still have a great mass of facts and incidents resulting from 
dreams and imagination, which coincide with experiences, facts, and 
incidents which have had actuality in the past, outside of our con- 


scions knowledge. And very often these actualities were in the remote 
past, In a period beyond one's present span of life. How came these 
facts and incidents to be stored away in the memory to be recalled, 
reviewed, analyzed, in the present span of life? This is the question 
which confronts the scientist today. 

The present story attempts to throw some light on this question 
and its possible answer. That the matter is presented in story form 
rather than in heavy, scientific arguments, does not prove that the 
principles involved are without scientific foundation, or that the proc- 
ess whereby the "Yesterdays" are revealed is an unnatural, uncom- 
mon, or unscientific process. It is, in fact, typical of the experiences 
of many individuals and may find a parallel in some experiences of 
the reader. 

With the sole idea that, through a pleasant or at least fascinat- 
ingly strange story, some will be brought to the threshold of reali- 
zation wherein the partially explored activities and functions of the 
mind contain many profound mysteries and principles of considerable 
import, and that those so illumined may be tempted to seek for more 
light in the Chamber of the Unknown this book is offered to those 
constantly asking for the unusual in fiction and the mystical in 

Temple of Alden, 
Valley of Amorc, California, 
November 25, 1919. 


Yesterday the idea commonly prevailed that Religion and Science 
were antagonistic. Today they are thought to be essentially disasso- 
ciated. Tomorrow they will be known to be one. 

The basic reason for present-day disassociation is found in the fact 
that religion in its inception is understood to be revelation, and in its 
individual experience, subjective. While on the other hand science 
is considered as a matter of research with a minimum of inspiration 
or revelation, and as objective in its realism ; psychology being the one 
effort at reconciliation of the two. 

It is not generally known that for thousands of years there have 
been those who have taught the unity of truth. This body of students 
reveals in the present volume that which may be accepted as a more 
popular expression of their teachings, and as the pioneer of others 
which will be forthcoming. It is presented as evidence that science is 
a matter of inspiration and revelation, as is religion. 

Granted then, that science is to be deductively realized and then 
found to be true by an inductive process of investigation, the con- 
summate skill in dealing with the science of psychology in the laws 
of consciousness revealed in the story will be recognked in their pre- 
sentation as experience in the form of a story. The understanding 
student may discover hidden in the text many laws and principles 
other than psychological which are also contributory to the clearness 
and force of the various passages. 

As a Priest of the Church remembering that whenever the Church 
was able to foresee any fact of science, or science anticipated the 
Church, it has been necessary to reconcile the one to the other I 
rejoice in the possibility of a better understanding here presented as 
an occasion for readjustment, answering to the demand of the present- 
day growing insistence upon the unity of Truth. 

Among the many points for readjustment which constitute the 
problems of today, both Theological and Psychological, are the fol- 

(1) That which is known as Metempsychosis or Reincarnation. 
Theologically unnecessary today, it must be reckoned with tomorrow. 
For reincarnation is demonstrable. It may be discovered in the teach- 


ings of the early Church and Is found in the scriptures of the Old 
and New Testaments by those who will read the words in the light 
of their most apparent meaning rather than by the dimness of indi- 
vidual precedent and prejudice. 

(2) To read and understand scripture just as it is, is not the least 
of the problems of today, as is understood by the reference in the 
present story to "And God breathed into his nostrils the breath of 
life, and man became a living Soul.'* Together with this may be 
mentioned the problem of bringing into popular appreciation the 
complete Bible including the so-called Apocrypha. And the full 
recognition of other Sacred Writings as subsidiary. 

(3) The problem of apprehending Immortality as a present con- 
sciousness and not necessarily as a dogmatic statement or the conclu- 
sion of a rational process. 

(4) The problem of bringing into popular acceptance the unen- 
cumbered mystical appreciation of prayer as the story in this book 
makes clear. This understanding has been within the consciousness 
of many an earnest and devout thinker in a theology of experience 
which, however, has fallen short of expression by pen or speech. 

(5) The problem of duly recognizing the holiness of birth apart 
from any glaring unconventionalities. 

And there are many others. Most of them are beautifully set forth 
in the following pages. 

I cannot refrain from calling attention to St. John, 1:9 (Revised 
Version) as a most remarkable corroboration of the author's eluci- 
dation of Light in connection with birth: "There was the true Light, 
even the Light which lighteth every man coming into the world." 

Interesting as is the story, it is not intended for light reading. It is 
to stir the depths of most profound thought, and urge to the most 
thorough investigation. Let the merely curious beware of disappoint- 
ment. Here the sincere soul will rejoice. 


St. Paul's Parish, 
Harlan, Iowa. 


To the man of iron nerve, steel business sharpness, and Intense 
concentration to business like William Howard Rollins the ending 
of a business year is like the ending of a segment of life. 

The closing of a fiscal year brings with the closing hours the sum- 
mary, the review, of acts done and undone, profits made and lost or 
unattained. The dosing of the fiscal year marks a milestone in the 
cycle of the business; it is an entity, a thing unto itself, and must be 
considered as an independent lifetime in the evolution of the business. 

To William Howard Rollins, it meant all this, and more. The 
fiscal years of his business began and ended at midnight of the calen- 
dar years. To him, January first was the day of rebirth, personally 
and in every business sense. To his associates, his closest friends, this 
meant socially also, for Rollins was reputed to be aH business, with 
nothing but business to interest him. It was his whole world; with it 
the day began and ended, life's activities carne and went. There was 
no other world for him, they said. ^ 

There was reason to believe this. Rollins was not only a mighty 
power in the commercial world, an attractive figure in the business 
circles of the largest American cities, but he had no dub life but the 
business dubs, he attended no social dinners except those given by 
the Rotary and other commercial dubs; he had no pleasures except 
those which afforded, through relaxation, increased power for busi- 
ness and he was not married. He lived in an unpretentious home 
with his mother, and avoided all attempts on the part of his social 
equals to interest him in the charms of their daughters. 

His bachelor home, presided over by an adoring mother, was ideal 
to this man of peculiar habits. Naturally he had but few visitors and 
never entertained in his home, if he entertained at all. But those 
who knew his home life, or those little phases of it snatched from 
short visits, said that neither luxury nor indigence manifested itself in 
any of the rooms except the private study. Here there were many 
paintings and one would judge that Rollins was especially fond of 


landscapes and etchings of rural scenery. Yet no one could recall 
having found Rollins ever motoring into the open country to admire 
nature in all its unpainted splendor. Books were not his hobby, for 
there was but one small bookcase in his study, and this had frosted 
glass doors which were always locked. What books were thus hidden 
and what their natures might be, not one of his intimate friends 
knew. A large safe, enclosed in a mahogany cabinet, and a large 
wooden chest bound with ornamental brass bands and corner-pieces, 
were the only other interesting or odd furnishings of the room. The 
large easy chair, the broad reading table, the standing reading light, 
the standing ash-tray, the pillowed footstool these merely suggested 
that at times Rollins relaxed and read. But what he read in addition 
to the New York Times and the Literary Digest, none, except possibly 
his mother, knew. 

But on this evening, the last hours of the closing year, the hours 
just before midnight when the New Year, 1917, would be ushered in, 
Rollins was reading in his study and he was reading his Diary. 

His mother had retired, the house was still, and Rollins was in a 
wodd alone. The gas logs in the fireplace of the study were en- 
twined by the blue and yellow flames that dimly lighted the shadows 
surrounding the end of the room, while near by, seated in his large 
chair, and wearing his very plain smoking jacket, Rollins was reading 
by the direct rays of the movable reading lamp, which cast but little 
light about the room. 

The Diary seemed to be his book-of -all-books. With the same 
regularity that he conducted each affair of his daily business routine, 
he made his notations in this book nightly before retiring. For years, 
in fact, since his college days, he had kept these daily records of the 
day's activities. Naturally, the twenty or more books, covering over 
twenty years' business career, contained notes and comments almost 
exclusively of business affairs. Each of these books had become, in 
its turn, his daily guide, his bible, his record of thoughts, of things 
to do and things done with occasionally a thing left undone. 

And tonight he was to close the 1916 diary! As was his custom, 
he must pass over the pages, one by one, and see, by the check marks 
opposite each notation, what important things had been accomplished 
and especially what others had been left unaccomplished, that he 
might enter them in the new diary and plan to accomplish them in 
the next year. This was the task he had set himself this New Year's 
Eve, while outside the city was celebrating, as only New York City 
can, the last hours of the old year. 


As page after page was turned backward from December to the 
previous month, and from that to October, and on back to September, 
he fell into reveries. In retrospection he was living over again each 
day of each month. Once in a while a smile would pass over his 
tense expression and at other times a stern look would come, as 
though he were about to issue some serious command, or make some 
weighty decision. 

Then came the date of September 12th. But one notation appeared 
on the page. Like many others, it was a command unto himself. It 
read, briefly: "Find out who painted the Spring landscape signed 

Raymond /' Immediately the entire tense attitude of 

Rollins changed. He was plunged by this short notation into another 
world, a world of speculation, curiosity, pleasantness and challenge. 
The smile passed from his face and there came the look of defiance. 
Why has it been impossible to learn the painter's last name? Why 
is it obliterated when the picture is otherwise so well preserved? 
These were the questions that passed through his mind. 

The painting referred to hung upon the wall of his study. It was 
an old masterpiece, a very old and costly painting. Its age and its 
masterful work were testified to by its technique, by all the signs and 
earmarks that constitute a real old masterwork, despite the fact that 
the dealer who sold it to him could not name the creator of it. The 
dealer had promised to find out; other experts in the valuation of 
painting had examined it and had agreed that it was the work of a 
master, unknown, for there was not known to be any other large 
landscape signed by a similar name. Not even the first initial of the 
last name could be deciphered, though apparently it had been signed 
there. The first name of Raymond, however, gave no clue. No such 
name was known among those of the old masters in connection with 
landscapes of such rare workmanship. It could not have been the 
first or only work produced by the painter; such skill as was shown 
in it is not attained except by long experience and much work in 
evolving a personalized technique. 

For five years the diaries contained on the pages dated September 
12th the date on which the painting was purchased the command: 
"Find out who painted the Spring landscape." Yet, with the money 
to pay for research work, with dealers ready to please Rollins with 
every favor that might lead to other sales, with a friend in Paris who 
dealt with artists of repute, with all his sincere interest, unrelent- 
ing desire, and intense curiosity, he could not learn the painter's name. 
To him it was no longer a mystery, it was a challenge; the secret name 


defied him, and defiance annoyed. Rollins was known as a man who 
cherished a chaEenge and laughed at defiance in the business world. 
But in this world of art, to which he seemed a stranger, he was defied 
by a simple thing which even a student of art might wipe out of 
existence through a casual investigation. 

"How many more years will I carry this notation in my diary?" 
asked Rollins of the spectres of dealers who loomed up before him in 
his reveries. "Five years have passed since I sought this knowledge 
first; and each year adds only to the age of the picture and possibly 

to the occultness of the answer to my question. If ail trace of the 
painter is lost now, why hope that future years will bring him to 
light? Time only cloaks mystery and makes it more profoundly ob- 
scure. Years enhance the arcane and thicken the veil that hangs be- 
tween the known and the unknown. If the painting was a thousand 
years old when I purchased it, it is now a thousand and five years old, 
and next September it will be a thousand and six! Before my life is 
ended and that painting passes on to others, it may be why even a 
thousand and forty years old for I hope to live at least forty years 
more. And then, what? Will the question who is the painter? be any 
nearer answered than it is now? The dealer who sold the painting to 
me and many of his associates will be gone then, and, even now the 
man who sold him the painting may be beyond the veil and can no 
longer assist in learning the painter's name. No, the future holds no 
encouragement in my search. I must go back to the past, to the days 
when the painting was new, when it hung upon the wall of some 
old castle, when the name was still readable, when the painter was 
still living!* 

Such were the thoughts that passed through Rollins' mind as his 
eyes wandered from the page of the diary to the blue and yellow 
flames of the gas logs, and he relaxed into speculation as to where 
the painting might have been made, and when. The name suggested 
a Frenchman and France, and France suggested a world of life and 
living so alluring! "Why does France appeal so and why have I 
never taken time to wander through its peaceful old towns and quaint 
old provinces?* ' The words were almost audible in the stillness of 
the room. And then Rollins' mind speculated again. "The war makes 
it impossible to visit France now even though the escape from busi- 
ness were possible. But there were days when neither business nor 
other affairs would have prevented a summer-time vacation trip to 
France, when all the strange longings for the environment, atmos- 
phere, and life of the southern provinces would have been wonder- 


fully appeased by such a trip, and yet France remains but a dream 
of the mind." 

Rollins did not know that his thoughts were identical with those 
of many others who have a strange longing for an unseen place which 
seems to be so familiar, so much a part of themselves and yet remains 
but a dream, a picture or condition of the mind. 

The lateness of the night, the sudden consciousness that he was 
slipping off into wild and unfruitful dreaming, brought Rollins back 
to the diary in his hand, and to where his forefinger still held the 
place at the page dated September 12th, 1916. He would check that 
to be re-entered in the next diary, as usual! There was nothing else 
to do but turn it over to the future, to place his question on a 
future page. 

And then, as he turned a page in the diary to that dated September 
llth, the strangest thought of all occurred to him: Why not turn 
backward and backward the pages of the yesterdays to the past and 
find the great answer there? "If I could only turn backward the 
pages one by one of a thousand years of yesterdays as easily as I 
turn backwards the pages of a year of yesterdays in this book, I could 
easily learn about that painting." The possibilities astounded him; 
and as he thought, he fell into a light sleep in which he was fully 
conscious of his position before the warm fire of the gas logs, and 
that he was just dreaming a daydream; but the diary in his hand 
now seemed to be an index to pages of the past, to consecutive yes- 
terdays of many years, and as he dreamed the scenes that came into 
lifelike existence in the fireplace, he felt the pages turning one by 
one in the great book in his hands. 

And then came the hour of midnight; the old grandfather's clock 
in the hall outside the room struck its twelve bold strokes and before 
the last had sounded, the city was stirred with the bells and chimes, 
the horns and shrill whistles, announcing the birth of another year; 
and though the sounds did not disturb Rollins or arouse him from his 
dream world, he was conscious of the fact that another period of life's 
cycle was at hand, and he turned backward to the first yesterday of 
the past, in the world that lies beyond the veil. 


As his concentration centered upon the open, black space above 
the flames of the fire, his consciousness also entered the vacuum of 
that space as though it were a world to dwell in and be a part of its 
limitless possibilities. And, as the strange sensation of entering that 
miniature world passed over his realization, he felt that he had just 
passed through a great veil which separated the past from the present. 
Thus, the turning of a page in the great book brought with it a 
peculiar lightness of spirit and an awakened state of subconscious 
reality. Physically, his body was still in the chair of the present, but 
mentally, self-ly, he was in the yesterday that was now being created 
in the little world beyond the veiL 

Slowly he realized the story unfolded around him. What a strange 
room there was, yet seemingly familiar. The mahogany bed ah, yes, 
the little woman, so young, and suffering! There are others here 
the man with the little satchel, a nurse, and another woman. There is 
sobbing, excitement, expectation. What does it mean? Now there 
come the agonizing cries of the young woman, the pleading for relief, 
the quiet gentle assurances of the man with the satchel yes, a 
physician tender and considerate. The nurse goes to the door and 
opens it and there enters a tall, fine-looking young man, excited, 
questioning, hurriedly dropping his hat on a table and rushing toward 
the bedside, but gently stayed by the physician who warns him to 
move slowly and carefully. Tears come to his eyes his darling is 
suffering the words so softly said are words of tender love. The 
wife suffers, the pain is agonizing, it lifts her body from the bed in 
paralyzing spasms. The physician holds his watch and waits. Can't 
something be done? The question, inaudibly spoken, comes from the 
mind of the lover, the husband. The nurse says kindly: "Time alone 
will end it all!" The wife is frantic now, the pain intense, the suffer- 
ing beyond endurance; and now she falls back upon her pillow, 
exhausted. She is quiet. The physician is again concerned and lifts 
her left hand; he times her pulse. She moves again. She is assisted 
to her feet; she tries to walk, but she is so weak. She cries: "Harold, 


Harold, If I had only known, if I had only known now I want to 
die ... it would be better . . . better than this! Please, Harold, can't 
you help me? I am so weak, I cannot stand the pain again!*' 

And then Rollins discovers himself in this scene. He feels that 
he wants to help this poor woman, and he looks to find where and 
what he is in this incident of some past day, some yesterday of his 
life. But he is not there, yet he sees, he hears, he knows. How is 
this? He is in every part of that room, yet the others do not see him 
and he is conscious of the fact that his mind, his inner self, his body, 
his soul that is it bis soul IS THERE WITHOUT A BODY. 
What then, is he? and where is this incident or where was it? He 
lifts his soul-eyes about to see more of his environment Above him 
space and other souls like unto himself, but he is hovering here. 
Where? Over and in the little house in the country. It is early 
morning, the winds are swaying the trees and whistling a continuous 
murmur. The fields are cold and flowers have been touched by frost; 
fog veils the distant hills and the rising sun just tints the heavens 
above and all is quiet and still without, but within the humble home 
pain and suffering, fear and hope, anxiety and tense expectation inter- 
mingle, while casting its shadow across the threshold of life stands 
the big black figure of death. 

And Rollins is but a Soul, waiting and watching. Why waiting? 
Cannot the records of yesterday answer the whys and hows of this 
sad scene? And then there comes a light! It forms a doorway and 
beyond it a channel. The Channel of Life! The words were written 
in blood over its archway. Through that passageway enters the Light 
of a little Soul. 

The little woman is again stricken. Once more she falls to her 
knees and cries for relief and drops exhausted. Gently she is lifted 
to the bed while the physician and nurse tenderly soothe her hands 
and brow. 

Spasm after spasm, agonizing screams, heart-rending suffering, hour 
after hour until the sun is high and the day is half spent. Through 
all this the little Soul waited and watched, knowing and realizing, 
hoping, and wanting to ease the hours and minutes but the law! 

Then the little Soul, bathed in Light, hovered more closely and 
contacted the Soul of the suffering woman. The Souls communed 
and their inner minds spoke what words could not express. The Soul 
of the woman, the young wife, longed for the home of love, the 
giving of great happiness to the man she loved, the Harold who had 
always been a tender lover, a considerate husband. Together they 


hoped to spend their lives sharing each other's joys and sorrows, and 
now, perhaps, the end had come. The body was slowly losing its 
strength, the brain was terrified with the intensity of the suffering of 
the flesh, the spirit walked in the valley of death while the Soul within 
longed to soothe the aching heart. Bravely had the little woman 
looked forward to the hour when greater joy should come into their 
lives, when their home should be blessed with the cries and laughter 
of the little child. Thoughtfully had the husband eased her mind 
and allayed all fears by his assurances that he would be near when 
the hour came to walk through the land of unknown grief and pain. 
Yet, now he was helpless to do more than touch her lips with a kiss 
and smooth back her loosened hair. What if death were to end all 
their hopes? Even in her minutes of intense suffering she could think 
of him ; and the thoughts of how he would suffer if death should end 
it all and if the hopes they had should prove futile, made her strive 
to bear the painful trials and gave her strength to fortify the weak- 
ened constitution for each periodic spell. The hour must surely come 
when weakness and ease from pain would let her rest and perhaps 
dream and then the long cherished sound of a babe's little cry would 
be joyous music to lull the sense of the new mother into the forget- 
fulness of motherhood's first long sleep. 

And then the little Soul- blended into the Soul of the expectant 
mother and quickened it with Divine life, and the little woman knew 
that God was near and that the moment was here for the supreme 
trial of her life. 

Communing, consoling, trusting in the faith of each other, know- 
ing full well the infallibility of the law, the weakness of human flesh, 
the temptations of earthly desires these two Souls clung intimately 
throughout the minutes of dosing travail. The little Soul looked to 
the woman in her joyous sorrow to bring to the world the body in all 
its perfect completeness, which would serve as the material cloak 
for its welcome visit to this loving home. The woman, on the other 
hand, clung to the little Soul and, with the instinct of motherhood 
already born, tried to warm the little Soul into staying there that her 
child might have soul and Hfe, even if she should pass on into the 
mists of the heavens in her supreme sacrifice. 

What a relationship! Nowhere in all the wondrous processes of 
nature, nowhere in all the principles of creation, is the law of God, the 
marvels of His ways, so beautifully, sacredly, and simply exemplified. 

Then came the crucial moment. Life in the little woman's body 
seemed to be at its lowest ebb. The suffering was pitiful. Husband, 
physician, nurse, the woman friend, and the little Soul in waiting, 


all felt the sadness, the terrible sorrow that pervaded the room. Eyes 
were wet and hearts were heavy as, helplessly, the little woman tried 
bravely to cooperate with nature and fulfill the decree of God that 
in sorrow and in pain shall women bear the fruit of love! 

Then a gasp! The little woman was lifted high upon the mountain- 
top adjoining the valley of death, and for one moment she saw a 
glimpse of the Heaven of God and even God and the Angels ap- 
peared to her and she knew that the baby's cry it lived and 
she was back again in the valley, asleep. But where the shadows had 
been, there now sported the little spots of sunbeams that forced their 
way through the foliage of the green trees, and they danced upon 
the green lawns of the valley like fairies in the springtime dance, all 
jubilant with the joy of living. 

The little Soul no longer rested in the aura of the woman's Soul. 
As the little cherub lips of the precious babe opened for their first 
breath of vitalizing air, they caused the lungs to expand, and with an 
immediate inhalation through the nostrils, another Divine decree was 
fulfilled: God breathed into man the breath of life and man became a 
living soul! The little Soul felt itself irresistibly drawn down toward 
the infant body, and found itself in the Chamber of the Soul, the 
Kingdom of the Inner Man. 

The body pulsated; it was warm; life was vigorous. The little 
Soul was enthroned on earth within its own palace, to direct and to 
suggest, to dictate and to impel, to urge and to tempt; to be the 
conscience of man, the mind of God, the Master Within the Holy 

And it listened. The mother slept peacefully, the nurse tiptoed 
gently about her duties, the physician watched carefully after the 
matters of concern. Nearby, in a little cradle, rocked the infant body 
while the Soul within observed and rejoiced. At the side of the cradle 
knelt the husband with tears in his eyes and a quickening of his 
spirit, for fatherhood was new and so wonderful. Carefully he arose, 
tenderly, humbly, he leaned over the babe and covered it with the 
soft hand-crocheted blanket the loving mother had made in her hours 
of hopeful waiting. Lifting one of the chubby hands he reverently 
kissed it as the representative of all that was Divine, all that was 
sacred, all that embodied the love he had for the sleeping woman in 
the corner. Then, placing the little hand down and covering it with 
the blanket, he whispered softly: "Baby man, we will bless you as 
God has done, and your name will be William Howard Rollins!** 


Startled, Rollins came back to consciousness of self and place. The 
picture in the fireplace was rapidly fading and Rollins found himself 
withdrawing from the scene. He was no longer a part of that yes- 
terday, the incidents of which had been so strangely enacted for him. 
He was now the man of today, the restless, modern, matter-of-fact 
today. But he knew. He had turned back the pages of life's diary 
to the yesterday of his birth and it was his soul that had entered the 
body of the babe. But what a price motherhood paid! His little 
mother, who even now slept peacefully upstairs. Could man ever 
repay the suffering woman bravely bears that the unborn child might 
have the very essence of her life even its very existence if necessary? 
What supreme love! Love divine! The love of God alone equals it 
yes, and it h the love of God. 

Thus pondered Rollins until, as tears came fast and his heart beat 
rapidly, the love in his heart for the mother upstairs was about to 
take him to her bedside to kneel in reverent adoration, when the door 
of his study suddenly opened and there stood the little gray-haired 
woman with a pink shawl thrown about her and the sweetest smile 
on her lips. Surprised at finding him awake, she said in the kindest 
tones of loving motherliness: 

"Come, William, my little mdn } it is very late and I was worried 
that you might have fallen asleep; for tomorrow is your birthday and 
I was just thinking of the day God gave you to us. Will you come 
now? I have your bed all prepared for you. Let us go up together. 
That's a good boy." 

And together the strong, tall, masterful man and the little, old, 
gray woman, weak and trembling at times, walked side by side, arm 
in arm, out of the room, lighted now only by the pale light of the 
moon, past the window of the hall to the wide stairway. Ascending 
together, it seemed, as they entered the deeper shadows and disap- 
peared from sight beyond, that angels hovered over them the little 
mother and her baby-man. 


Nervously and restlessly, lacking real fatigue, Rollins turned from 
side to side in Ms bed. Sleep seemed impossible. His mind was 
haunted with the story and the picture he had just lived through. 

The long curtains at the windows turned the beams of moonlight 
into filigree designs upon the darkly carpeted floor, and in the far 
corner of the room the large old-fashioned mirror of great size re- 
flected the one shaft of moonlight which hit the white lamp shade 
upon the small reading table. As Rollins gazed at this reflected 
sphere of white in the mirror, it seemed to turn into a pale, beauti- 
ful face that smiled at him at times, and at other times, wrinkled with 
pain, became moist with tears of suffering. 

Motherhood and the coming of a little soul! These were the 
entities, the wonderfully ordained things that occupied the threshold 
of his consciousness to such an extent that dormancy of thought, so 
necessary to sleep, was impossible. And he had witnessed the birth 
of his own body and the entrance into it of his own soul! What 
an important yesterday that had been; far more so than any other 
occupying a place in the last twenty years of his business career. 
Yet, this fact astounded the matter-of-fact Rollins. It controverted 
what had been his belief for so many years. There could be nothing 
more important in his life than these yesterdays and todays of busi- 
ness, each of which was so carefully chronicled in his sacred diaries! 
To be just the beginning and the end of things ; it was the period of 
life between these two points that was essential nothing else. 

Tonight, however, as he lay in the increasingly nervous condition, 
there loomed upon the horizon of his measure of essentials, something 
more than, or different from the material affairs of life. The beginning 
of life was intensely interesting and most certainly important. And, 
perhaps the end of life was equally interesting and important. Much 
of life's success and power depended upon the first hour of life, 
the hour when the soul entered the infant body. Suppose the soul 
had failed to enter the little body then what? Clearly he recalled 
the anxiety experienced by the mother lying in travail, fearful lest 


the soul hovering near might fail to enter and vitalize the little body 
straggling for birth. All the hope and aspirations, plans and ideals 
stored in the mother's breast were dependent upon that one mys- 
terious manifestation of an unknown law whereby the soul in space 
would be transferred, transplanted, so to speak, into the body pre- 
pared for it; and the body, lifeless except for being infused with the 
borrowed blood and vitality of the mother, would become transmuted 
into a perfect creation, a living soul, a vitalized body. What a won- 
derful transmutation! Could this be the transmutation that the mystics 
of old symbolized and compared with the alchemical process of in- 
fusing a grosser material with a finer or refined spirit until the blend- 
ing of the two made manifest a third and different being the refined, 
perfect creation, the pure gold of the universe? 

Yet, what if the soul had not entered the body? Was not the soul 
at such time concerned too, lest it might not fulfill the law? In such 
an event as failure to unite terrible contemplation! he, the great 
Rollins of the business world, would not now be here. "Born lifeless" 
would have been the curt and sole dictum of the physician and the 
soul now within would have returned to where? 

Rollins was wide awake now. Here was a question quite as im- 
portant as any in his business, quite as mysterious in its nature as 
"Who was the painter ?" 

He sat upright in his bed. He ran his fingers through his hair and 
slowly breathed a deep breath it was almost a sad sigh. He was 
impressed with the importance of his question and at the same time 
was stirred by the very intensity of his curiosity. Downstairs the 
great dock struck one long sonorous chime. Rollins could not tell 
whether it indicated twelve-thirty, one, or one-thirty in the morning. 
It was late and he ought to sleep, this he realized; but the question, 
the all-important question was not answered. 

He turned his gaze toward the corner of the room and there the 
face peered at him again in the mirror. It seemed to be the face of 
the mother who prayed for the coming of the little soul, and almost 
unconsciously he stared at it with that same questioning gaze known 
so well in commercial circles when Rollins was after the concealed 
truth. 'Tell me," he demanded in stern tones, "tell me, where would 
that little soul of mine have gone if it had not come into my baby 
body at birth?'* 

He waited for an answer, and after a pause that seemed like the 
stillness of death in the room, there came to his consciousness like 
the whispering of a voice within his soul: "Who knoweth not in all 
these that the hand of the Lord hath wrought this? In whose hand 


is the soul of every living thing and the breath of all mankind." 
The words were those of the Holy Bible, the twelfth chapter of Job. 
But to Rollins they revealed the Law. "In the presence of the Lord 
shall all souls tarry and rest and await the coming of their day." 

The soul would return to its own realm, to the presence of God, 
to the world of other souls, and wait! Rollins, the man of now, 
would not be here, but the soul would not be lost. There seemed to 
be consolation in that for Rollins, yet why, he could not have ex- 
plained then; for until the hour of penetration of the veil of yester- 
day, the personality of Rollins, rather than the divinity of the inner 
man, was all-important; and now why it seemed that Rollins felt 
contented with the knowledge that if the personality of himself had 
been unborn, the soul that would have been his own would have 
lived and waited. 

Rollins fell back upon his pillow and dosed his eyes in contem- 
plation. There were two of him there in unison his personal self 
Rollins, with the baby body grown into adulthood, and the little soul 
residing within. The one came from the blood, the thoughts, the 
hopes, the desires, the love of his mother, the other from God. 

Thus contemplating, Rollins reviewed again the minutes when his 
little soul, a shapeless, formless, thinking, feeling entity, hovered in 
space awaiting the moment of passage through the great Channel. 
Hovering in space? Where? Again the question that came to him 
then: "How came I there? And pom where? If I was there within 
the presence of that little home and that little woman that day, where 
was I the day before the birth the yesterday? Oh, if I could turn 
back another page of life's yesterdays and see the day before this day 
of birth to see and live again the last day of the yesterlife" 

Whether Rollins fell asleep with that desire in his mind or not he 
could not tell when the night had passed and day had come again. 
All he knew was that a page had been turned in the diary of life's 
cycle and that, as he lay there in bed he had been startled by the pres- 
ence of a great light near the ceiling. He gazed. The ceiling seemed 
to be gone, limitless space was beyond the room, and even the walls 
of the room now seemed to be blank, colorless space. Turning from 
side to side he found upon his body the weight and bulk of the great 
book whose pages indexed and recorded his life the book he had 
seen but a few hours before in his study. Sitting upright, again he 
gazed at its pages and found his hand slowly opening to a page 


marked, Yesterday, December 31st. That was the day before his 
birthday. It was the last yesterday of his yesterlife. 

Looking again toward the space above and around him he found 
that the great light which had aroused him was, in fact, a mass of 
smaller blending lights, each distinctly individual and yet so united 
that the thousands and thousands within range of his sight were as 
an undivided mass. 

Each light moved, moving in a motion that was rhythmical and 
harmonious. There! one separated from the mass and moved in a 
circular motion toward the East and passed out of sight; and toward 
it followed for a long distance a shaft of light that illuminated it, 
strengthened it on its way. Another moved outward, this time to- 
ward the South. It too carried with it the projecting light from 
the mass, as though it required a stream of power to mark its path 
of motion. Another moved! Many were now moving in different 
directions, each followed by a scintillating, transparent, but luminous 

One was approaching him! As it came nearer to him, it grew 
larger, more brilliant and more intimate in some peculiar sense. Its 
light cast a shade of violet white upon his body and seemed to blind 
his eyes. It came closer and closer; it was just above him now. His 
body tingled, but the active pulsations of the heart seemed to stop. 
A peculiar etherealness pervaded his body and it became lighter in 
weight. Finally his whole consciousness was outside of his body, 
vibrating with an attunement most difficult to interpret. 

The great mass of light before him elongated until it was a large 
oval-shaped mass. It fairly trembled with vitality of some kind and 
radiated toward the consciousness of Rollins a peaceful, soothing, 
familiar warmth. 

Then from its very substance a voice spoke. To Rollins the words 
were those of a gentle masculine nature, but he realized at once he 
was not hearing the voice through the ordinary channel of the ears 
of his body. In fact, he felt that he had no body. What there was of 
him, the him that he knew as self, was in front of him, was a part 
of the great light now was even the Great Light itself! It was his 
soul talking to him. This this was bis soul, Ms soul in space. It was 
the yesterday of 

"In thy Light shall we see Light! In the beginning God said, Let 
there be Light. The Light of the Life of men. I am the Light of 
God who sent me; of the greater Light am I a part. Within me there 
shineth the Light of divinity. The Soul of man is the Light. Ye are 
all Children of the Light. Thy Kingdom is the Kingdom of Light. 


Into darkness cometh the Light but the darkness comprehendeth It not. 
When the Light goeth it returneth unto Light and leaveth darkness 
unto itself. Light is life, Truth, Freedom. Darkness is Death, Sin, 

"This is my world, the limitless world of God. Of God's Light 
am I. Beyond are my kin, all Children of the Light, all of the 
Fatherhood of God, the Motherhood of Love. In the beginning God 
said: Let there be Light and there was Light, and the Light was 
divided into mansions of the Heavens, and there were twelve into 
which the Children of Light were received that they might be pre- 
pared to serve in their time as souls for the races of man on earth. 
And one by one, each was ordained by the Mind of God to go forth 
and let the Light shine on earth through the Body God made of 
the dust of the earth. And when the hour came and it was good 
that a soul should bring the Light on earth, God breathed into the 
nostrils of man and each man became a living soul on earth. And 
there was a time and a place for each Light to shine, and a day and 
an hour for each Light to dispel the darkness and give Life, radiant 
and abundant. The law is immutable, the ordination infallible in its 

"And when the Light could no longer shine through the sinful 
bodies the Light was absorbed into the halo of the Heavens and there 
communed with its kin in the mansions prepared for them. For man 
on earth is ever sinful, decreeing unto himself the power of free-doing 
in violation of the voice within which speaks in Truth ; for it is of the 
Light which is Truth. And man destroys the body that God has made 
and weakens its structure and defiles the dust of which it is made 
and it can no longer contain the spirit which animates it. And it 
succumbs, it falls like the walls of a Temple rotted with the worms 
of filth and decay from neglect. And it crumbles into dust again. 
For the Light leaveth and darkness reigns within. Light is Life and 
darkness is Death. 

"The Light that returneth seeth all that is and that will be. Of 
the Mind of God, its Father, it is attuned with all minds. It heareth 
the secret prayers and cries of the Lights of men, it knoweth the 
hopes and desires of the souls of earth, it seeth the despairs and the 
dangers, the temptations, and the pitfalls of those whose Lights are 
denied the power to speak, the right to guide. Unto the Lights in 
the mansions beyond is given the power to help, the freedom to act, 
the inspiration to direct. They cast the beams of their Lights into 
the shadows of the hearts of man and speak with him and strengthen 


the Light that is held powerless within. This is their work, the work 
of the Children of Light waiting the hour to come into man with the 
breath of life. 

"And when the hour comes that the Light within the mother on 
earth shines forth and an infant body is prepared for the coming of 
a soul, the decrees of God send forth that Light which is ready for 
the time and the place, the work and the service that shall be the 
mission of the Light of some mansion. And into the body of the babe 
goes forth that Light to be a Light among men. It takes with it unto 
the brain of the babe the personality and the mind, the soul and the 
memory of its former periods of life on earth; and there shines forth 
through the body of the child and the man the Light that is within. 
But man hearkens unto the words of the unwise, the thoughts of the 
tempters, the schemes of the men whose hearts are steeled against the 
radiations of their Lights within, in preference to the mortal earthly 
realities of their own physical senses; and some men are, therefore, 
lost. But to him, who hearkens unto the voice of the Light within 
and finds pleasure in communion with the Soul within, there, and 
unto him, comes God and Truth and Life. 

"But I must hasten on. I have come unto thee to speak as we 
would speak unto all men who seek Light, that the mind and the 
brain may be illumined. My time has come to leave the Kingdom 
of Light and stand near the little woman, who, within a few hours, 
shall walk through the valley of travail, praying unselfishly for the 
Light to come to the infant body she has nourished into creation. 
It is so decreed that that infant body shall be mine, for it will come 
into places and meet with those who will need my Light; and it will 
pass from association to association, city to city, peoples to peoples, 
wherein and whereby shall be many experiences needful to^my 
evolving personality, and needing the knowledge that I have attained 
in the past. In the home of that child will I wait. I will give ease 
to the new mother consistent with the laws in operation. I will 
stand guard over the threshold of the Channel of Life and be pre- 
pared. And, when I enter with the Breath of Life I will look out 
of the windows of the Soul, the pure eyes of the babe, and I will 
see y 0l i r mother, your father, your home! Come, consciousness and 
understanding, you must accompany me and pass with me into the 
being now ready for Life's supreme miracle! Through space we 
shall pass, followed by the loving beams of radiating Light which 
unite us with the Greater Light, and tomorrow will be thy birthday 
on earth." 

Slowly the Light passed on into the night's darkness and with it 
passed from the aura of Rollins that sublime consciousness, that 


strange ethereal self, that was outside of Ms body, yet belonged to 
him. And he fell Into oblivion, and slept. Awakened by the usual 
call of his mother, he was startled into consciousness of self and self's 
environment. The morning sunlight casting its warm yellow beams 
across the floor spoke of life and the glory of living. Downstairs a 
door dosed. There was the sound of wagon-wheels on the gravel 
on the path around the house. The world was astir! It was today 
again and the yesterday had passed. The yesterday of a yesterlife 
the day before his birth, when his own Soul was preparing to pass 
through the experience he had seen earlier last evening. 

Once more he had turned backward a page in the diary of Life's 
cycle to a yesterday beyond the veiL 

V V V 


The day being a holiday which even the tireless business man 
must recognize and keep, Rollins decided to spend Ms New Year's 
day at home. He had partially planned to deviate slightly from his 
rule of many years and have dinner at some fashionable downtown 
restaurant, where he and his mother might enjoy the music and 
change of environment more than the food. But, learning that his 
mother was fully prepared to serve lunch at home, and with the 
experiences of the night weighing heavily upon his mind, Rollins 
was quick to take advantage of any logical excuse for not dining 
away from home at this hour of the day, postponing the restaurant 
dinner to the customary evening hour for holiday dining. 

With a light breakfast served in his study, he begged to be excused 
until afternoon that he might complete his analysis of the diary. He 
had fallen asleep the night before without finishing what he had 
started. That was the excuse he gave to his mother the only person 
to whom he ever gave any explanations and perhaps the only one ever 
to ask why he did some of the things that appeared so erratic. But 
Mother seemed to understand, and so Mother had some special 

As soon as he could hurriedly digest the important news in the 
morning Times a practice that nothing could break he pulled down 
the shades, closed the inner shutters of the two windows of the room, 
and lighted the gas logs again that he might sit once more in the quiet, 
darkened room and be alone with the dreams, the visions, the some- 
thing that now seemed to be a part of his real being. 

If Rollins had been asked just at this time to give as keen an 
analysis of himself and his mental attitude as he gave of those he 
scrutinized before employing them or dealing with them in any 
manner, he would have said that he was a man possessed of an 


hallucination tending to become a fixed idea, and would have added 
that such a man was useless in business and a nuisance as a friend. 
He would have said of his mental attitude, generally, that it was 
being warped by imagination, swayed by passing emotions, fixed upon 
a tenuous goal, obsessed by a single passion, and made impractical by 
ideals too vague to describe. Secretly, however, he would have re- 
luctantly admitted to himself that he was being mentally and, some- 
how inwardly revolutionized. His processes of thinking were being 
changed by newer premises of reasoning. He was unlearning the old 
lessons and learning new ones. He was discarding old faiths and 
beliefs and slowly, analytically, absorbing from some sort of secondary 
personality new and more worthy, noble, and spiritual beliefs. By 
another, his change in thinking and believing would be called de- 
velopment of religious mind. But, with Rollins, religion would have 
to come from within, for he was not in sympathy with churches and 
religious ceremonies; and he would hardly believe that a religious 
change could come to any man who did not come under the hypnotic 
spell of master sermon-preachers. Naturally, Rollins would hesitate 
long before admitting that through his recent experiences God had 
spoken to him and he was, in fact, developing that religious mind and 
attitude which constitutes the real conversion from sinful indifference 
to sacred appreciation. 

Relaxing easily in the big chair, turned purposefully so that he 
could conveniently gaze into the flames of the logs again, he fell into 
that same kind of speculation that had controlled him the evening 
before. He had not taken the 1916 diary from his desk, for despite 
the statement to his mother, it was not his intention to continue its 
study until later in the day. He wanted to be free, mentally, and 
not distracted by even the holding of a paper or pencil in his hand. 
He seemed to feel that the fireplace would again serve him with 
another manifestation of some weird process of the imagination, or 
possibly, memory. 

Could these things be the result of the imagination? If so, he, 
his outer objective self, the brain's creative faculties and reasoning 
abilities, had created, manufactured all he had seen and realized. 
Some men are born with an unusual ability to create in this manner. 
The faculty of imagination granting that it is a distinct process or 
faculty separated from the ordinary process of inductive, deductive, 
and syllogistical reasoning simply requires a premise of probability 
upon which the wildest thoughts of possibilities and impossibilities 
are placed in some schematic manner suiting the fancy of the dreamer. 


Usually, accompanying the foundation stone or premise of such a 
structure, the builder has in mind the last stone, perhaps the key- 
stone, that is to be conspicuous in the completed creation. And the 
builder builds to suit the needs lying between the foundation and 
the very pinnacle of the structure. With the goal dearly defined in 
mind, it is possible to select from the memory of facts and ideas 
just such elements of fabrication as are needed to reach such a goal. 
This applies to the average imagery of man's mind. 

But such an explanation of the process of imagination, so-called, 
eliminates all appreciation of the following facts: First, all the de- 
ductive and inductive reasoning of man's brain must result from a 
careful analysis of those experiences which he has consciously realized 
through participation in them, through reading of them, or through 
hearing or seeing them. Second, facts drawn from the memory of 
man must be facts or ideas which entered the memory during a period 
of realization of them or otherwise. 

How, then, thought Rollins, can all that has occurred since last 
evening be attributed to my imagination? ( There is, truly enough, 
but one limitation to the activities and products of imagination; all 
must be centered around and within the limits of my knowledge. 
I cannot imagine a fact that I do not otherwise know or that is not 
a part of or related to some other fact or facts which I knowJ Nor, 
in the process of adding to t my structure of imagination, can I take 
from the memory such elements as are not there. Each point, each 
element, each feature, in even the wildest and most weird fabrication 
of imagination, must be the result of deductive or inductive reason- 
ing, based on a premise within my conscious knowledge.! 

Whence came, then, the facts contained in what I^liave seen and 
experienced within the past twenty-four hours? Whether the facts 
of my experience last night are actualities of life or not, they are, 
nevertheless, facts in my mind now and where did they come from? 
I never knew before, never heard or read before, that the soul of 
the unborn child hovered near the expectant mother and passed into 
the body of the child with its first breath. Not only did I never hear, 
nor read, nor understand that before, but it is contrary to what 
I have hitherto believed, contrary to what I should have argued, 
contrary to what I have been taught, and what I know *so many 
believe and teach. Twenty-four hours ago, I should have said em- 
phatically and without tolerance for debate, that the soul of an 
unborn child enters its body some time prior to its birth perhaps 
months before. Our civil, criminal, and moral laws are based upon 
that belief. Great fortunes have been granted to heirs on the basis 


of that principle. Learned judges, eminent jurists, undoubted authori- 
ties have argued in courts, claiming that after a certain period of 
gestation, the unborn child has a Soul, and is, therefore, an entity, 
a personality, separate and distinct from the mother, and could, 
therefore, be a potential heir to a fortune, even before birth. Men 
have gone to the gallows in the past for having destroyed or caused 
to be destroyed the Soul, or rather its functioning, by the destruction 
of the body of an unborn child. Yet, from what I have learned, 
and what I must confess seems to be the most logical and correct 
statement of the matter, the unborn child up to the moment of the 
first breath of life, is living on the vitality, the soul-essence of the 
"borrowed blood" of the mother, as the words of the Soul- voice ex- 
plained to me. The severance of the umbilical cord is the establish- 
ment of the child's independent existence and the taking of the first 
breath of life is the establishment of the independent and separate 
vitalizing of the blood ; and this must necessarily precede the sever- 
ance of the two bodies. It is most logical, reasonable, and natural 
from a scientific point of view. It explains the statement made by 
the Soul-voice and which I have often read in the Bible without 
realizing its import i\God breathed into man the breath of life and 
man became a living soul. \ 

But, how could such a startling, revolutionary, illuminating fact 
come to my brain, my memory or my consciousness through imagina- 
tion? If but one illuminating fact can thus come through imagina- 
tion, then a complete education, a veritable encyclopedia of facts, a 
mine of exact knowledge, might be possessed by any one through 
simply day-dreaming and imagining. 

And, there was the scene of my birth! The little room, the suffer- 
ing woman, the physician, the nurse, the kind and gentle husband, 
the cradle, the voice of my father saying: "Baby man, we bless you 
as God has done, and your name will be William Howard Rollins !" 
I do not recall, in fact, I am sure of this quite positively, that my 
mother has never told me a word about that day, for it is a sad 
event in her life; for on that day she lost the man who loved her, 
and I lost the only person whose absence has been my one great 
regret. How could such facts as constitute the picture of that room 
and the incidents of that day, come from either imagination or my 
memory, if I had ever known them? But were they facts in 
actuality? Ah s here is a test Mother she could verify them! 
She alone can prove, now, whether I have created something from 
imagination, fancy, or hope, or whether I have been informed in 


some strange way, of what occurred when I could not have realized 
It myself. 

Forgetting the request that he wished to be alone, and "never real- 
izing how peculiar his inquiry might seem to the little gray woman, 
he rushed from his study, and calling to the sewing-room at the head 
of the stairway, said: 

"Mother, Mother, oho, Mother! Can you come down to the study 
for a little while, now? There is something I would like to talk 

There was a tenseness in his voice, an excited vibration, that 
plainly told of a new-found interest, an important subject of imme- 
diate attention. His mother knew well that tenseness and she knew 
it would brook no delay, and so she came at once. He met her 
at the door, and fondly, more kindly than ever it seemed, put his 
strong arm around her waist and together they passed into the study. 

He placed her in the chair he had just occupied so that she might 
look right into the dancing flames of the gas logs, while he squatted 
easily, like a big boy, on the stool in front of her. 

"Mother," he began slowly, "I want to ask you a few, eh, rather 
personal questions. You see, that is you know, it is it is my birth- 
day today. Yes, it is my forty-second birthday. I was born January 
1st, 1875. That's right, isn't it?" 

"Why, yes, William," she replied, glancing at his big questioning 
eyes with a peculiar query forming in her own mind. "But why 
talk of it now? Why not forget that is, forget how old you are, 
and think only of the many, many more years that are to come? 
Why I believe I have forgotten to congratulate you today! You 
were so anxious to be alone this morning, I hardly had an oppor- 
tunity to say even good morning. My boy has grown so big these 
last twenty or thirty years I realize more and more what a great man 
has come from the little man that God once gave me when. . , . But 
come, William, let us talk about the future. Are you ever going to 
take a nice long vacation? Wouldn't it be wonderful at this time of 
the year to spend a few weeks at Palm Beach? We that is, you 
certainly need a little change and rest, and sometimes, sometimes I 
feel so tired, too. You know I am getting old, William, very old 
and . . . But there, I did not want to ask favors of you on your 
birthday. It is you who should ask them today" 

"That's just it, Mother, I am asking a favor now. I want just a 
little talk with you about my birthday my first birthday. You say 
I should not talk about how old I am, and you, with aU the pretty 
color of a young girl in your cheeks, with the twinkle in your eyes 


of a twenty-year-old sweetheart you talk of being old. But, to 
come back to my question tell me, Mother, at what hour was I born 
if you can remember? No, I did not mean that of course, you can 
remember, that is not so long ago and who was there? Where was 
the room? Or rather, in which room of the house was I born? You 
know what I mean, tell me all about the day, from the hour of sunrise 
to the hour of the hour when Father gave me my name!" 

"Your father!" The little woman gave a startled gasp. For a 
second she looked sharply into the eyes of the big boy and then 
into the flames of the fire. A sigh escaped her lips, her hands 
twitched, and slowly she let her right hand slip into the big, firm 
left hand of the man-boy she idolized. Tears came into her eyes 
and she did not try to stay them. 

Rollins looked for a moment and then dropped his eyes to the 
floor. Motherhood, suffering, the valley of death and now recol- 
lection! That was all that passed through his mind, and he was 
deeply, sympathetically affected. What cruelty to have the sweet 
little woman live through it again! 

After a pause of several minutes, wherein the inner sobs of a 
bleeding heart gave pulsations even to the vibrations of the room 
a pause in which mother and son were again wrapped in the soul- 
auras of each other through divine atonement he spoke. 

"Pardon me, Mother, I did not mean to bring back to your mind 
the sorrows and pains of that day. I know what it means that is, 
I believe I understand what a supreme sacrifice of life's forces you 
must have made. Come, tell me only of the happiness of that day!" 

"My boy, my boy," sobbed the little woman, now turning in her 
chair so that she could look down on the head and shoulders of the 
man who slowly buried his head in her lap, and finding work for 
her nervous fingers in the smoothing of his hair. "There was no 
sorrow that day, all was joy, all was happiness. The next day 
brought its sadness and widowhood, for I did not know of his 
his going until the next day I was too weak to be told at once. 
But your birthday was the most wonderful day to me, and my tears, 
boy-man of mine, are tears of joy just the duplicate of the tears 
that I shed so silently and quietly as I fell asleep when I heard your 
first cries and knew that you lived. I was so fearful that you might 
not be that you might not live and that you might not be a big, 
strong boy to become a stalwart man, like your father. But your 
cries, your cries of life, and the words of the nurse 'it is a boy' 
these gave me unbounded joy. My prayers were answered and oh! 
how I prayed that day, from sunrise to the hour of peace in the arms 


of sleep that my baby might live, that the Soul of God might be 
In his little body. 

. "There is not much to tell of the events of that day, yet there is 
so much to tell in one regard, that I feel I must tell you now. Long 
have I tried to say nothing; long have I wanted to keep this one day 
holy to myself the day of your birth. But you would know some 
day some day when I dose my eyes in sleep eternal, and it may be 
better to speak now. There keep your head in my lap, my dear, and 
let me look off into space as I speak. I cannot now look into your 
eyes and tell you with shame the story I must tell; but you shall 
know, and God help me to tell you in some way, in some words, 
that will beg, as / cannot beg, for your forgiveness. 

*'Your father and I knew each other as playmates at school. We 
lived in the little town of Alberta, Minnesota, not far from Morris, 
which was the county seat of Stevens County. Our parents were 
typical farmers of that day, fair-to-do, and each of us was 'an only 
child.' We attended school only three days each week, sharing our 
teacher with the school at Donnelly, many miles north, the other 
three days. This gave us much opportunity to romp the fields, enter 
into the games and pastimes of the other children and become sweet- 
hearts. When I became sixteen I went to the town of Morris, which 
always seemed like going to a big city, and there I attended what 
would be called a high school today. But your father, a robust boy 
of eighteen, went to Benson, in Swift County, adjoining, to study 
law, with an uncle who had a large practice there, it also being a 
county seat. Letters passed between us that grew more fervent, per- 
haps because of the separation, and it was not long before I was 
considered as engaged to the young law student. His future seemed 
bright, as was considered in those days when good lawyers with 
connections with established practices were few, and I remember 
that our school-day friends spoke of the happy lot I was to have. 
It was not just a schoolboy and schoolgirl love affair, for, you see, 
we had grown up together and we seemed to be so much a part of 
each other. 

"Then his father died. The boy had to return to the farm and 
look after his mother and the big lands left uncared for. Once again, 
we were together for several weeks, and his possible return to the 
town of Benson made me unhappy. I had left Morris, having com- 
pleted a two-years* course of study, and he had only reached the 
point where he could go into court and take care of some minor cases. 
I was then eighteen and he was twenty. We made our plans that 
some day we would be married and live in the house his father had 


left to Mm, and his dear, sweet mother should live with us. My 
father had always wanted to go to Duluth and there associate with 
a brother who was in the produce business 'food stocks' it was called 
then and I knew that it was just little me that kept him from selling 
the farm and going on East with Mother. And so, when he learned 
that there was a possibility of my marriage with the son of his old 
neighbor and that we would live in that house, that I would be well 
cared for, even if the boy never e 'mounted to much as a lawyer/ 
he began his preparations for selling and moving. 

"I remember how strange I felt when men came to estimate the 
value of the old farm and homestead, and then when buyers came, 
one by one making their offers. Father would explain to them some- 
times in my hearing how the "little gal' was going to be married 
soon and would live over Yonder' in the home of old Walt Rollins. 
It seemed, day by day, that, as things were packed up and certain 
things were set aside for me, I was being forced out of my home and 
literally given away to the boy who had not even then asked me to 
marry him. That we would marry, some day, seemed so well under- 
stood between us, we never made specific any date. But this indefinite 
understanding on our parts was translated into a very definite matter 
by our parents and friends. 

"My boy, my sweetheart, seemed to realize that it was nearly time 
to take the matter into his own hands, and I recall the day that the 
big mahogany bed-set was moved from Mother's room over to the 
Rollins* home to be our set; I was embarrassed to find how intimately 
we were being placed in the arrangement of the new room and with 
never a word from my boy as to when we were to be married. 

"Finally my father and mother moved away went on their long 
planned journey and bid me good-bye. I was well established in the 
Rollins home, had the big room with mahogany bed-set all to myself, 
and dear old Mrs. Rollins acting as mother to me. 

"My sweetheart was still anxious to return to his study of law, and 
when he learned that his cousin Harold, who lived in the East some- 
where, was to come West he wrote for him to visit our home. Harold, 
much to my disappointment, proved to be a fine, manly young fellow 
of twenty-two, far from the weak, characterless type we had been 
led to believe lived in the big Eastern cities. He was well educated, 
polished, athletic in action, religiously inclined, and always gentle- 
manly. I did not know it then for he would have never told but 
he took a fancy to me and it was that which made him prolong his 
visit and never reach further West as he had planned. 


"As soon as Harold had been with us several weeks and indicated 
that for some reason he thought he would stay perhaps a year, my 
sweetheart decided that, since Harold could look after the farm, he 
might well return to Benson and continue his studies at law. I pro- 
tested in a way, for many weeks before he left, but he had been 
going ahead with some studies at home, preparing for several months 
to take up a definite work when he reached there. All this time he 
said nothing more about our marriage and you know, in those days, 
we were taught that it was not proper for a girl to appear even 
anxious to marry. Therefore, the anxiety that came to me at times 
never expressed itself. 

"We grew more and more intimate, my sweetheart boy and I, as 
the days passed. Harold, the cousin, could not help seeing that we 
were deeply in love. To me, my boy personified all that love meant 
to a woman. He was an idol, a hero, a master, in my heart and mind. 
And then came the last week. Often we sat in the twilight, his arms 
about me, my head resting against his shoulder. He would tell me 
of his love and how happy we would be in the future. Oh! it was 
the old sweet story over and over that every girl loves to hear. It was 
the first week in May, the springtime sun, the blossoming of the 
flowers, the green trees and lawns so fresh with new life, the singing 
of the birds, the exotic perfume, the setting sun, then the moon 
all this seemed to add to the joy, and the alluring power that my boy 
sweetheart held over me. 

tf And just the night before he left thrilled with the warmth of 
his kisses, saddened by the sorrow of the morrow's separation, over- 
powered by the protestations of his love and by the beauty of the tie 
that binds, we cast our souls into the flames of sin and I was his 
bride. It was not the way I understood, but it made him mine, and 
for one brief hour he was mine all mine, united to me by a mar- 
riage of all the passion and emotions, all the forces of the universe. 
I had looked forward to another kind of marriage, but this this must 
suffice for the present. He would return soon, and then then the 
other marriage. We agreed to keep our secret. He would return 
in the summer vacation days when even the country courts were 
closed for a while then the day of the marriage. Oh, how well I 
remember those plans, for I lived over them hour after hour during 
his absence. 

"One week later he wrote me that an uncle in Duluth wanted him 
to go there, as there was an excellent opportunity for his law practice 
after he should have completed his studies ; and he could just as easily 
complete them there, easier in fact than he could in Benson. I re- 


member feeling that that fact alone atoned for the greater separation 
that would come between us he would more quickly and with greater 
efficiency complete his studies there. 

"A few days later there came another letter, hurriedly written, 
saying he was leaving Benson that very hour. He would write to 
me from. Duluth. I should not forget him, and he would not forget 
me for a single moment; and some day soon he would come back. 
Come back to old Alberta, the town of his boyhood, the home of 
his bride. And that was the last that was ever heard of him. 
Weeks passed and I wrote to him in care of his uncle. His uncle 
wrote to me that they were still waiting his coming. Harold went 
to Benson and found that he had gone the day he wrote his last 
letter to me. There was no trace of him. Telephones and telegraphs 
were not available in those days as they are now, yet even such things 
might not have located him. Remember, this was in 1874. Many 
things could have happened to him, the most logical being the one 
we all agreed upon. He had probably changed cars at some station 
and listening to the pleading of the enticing expectations of those 
moving westward where fortunes were to be made, joined with them. 
Harold agreed in this, for it was the allurement of the Golden West, 
the promise of fortune, and the hope of great, quick wealth, that had 
started him westward. 

"The day came when I discovered that not long could I keep from 
some one the knowledge that something more than wifehood was to 
be my lot. I had never thought of this; complete innocence, or rather 
ignorance, was a girl's charm in those days and likewise her rum in 
many cases. Old Mrs. Rollins, heartbroken, but brave and sympa- 
thetic, answered my many questions and revealed the law to me. 
Never did girl need and have so wonderful a friend as that dear, 
sweet mother. My own parents were never told; and only this kind 
mother and myself knew, at rst Then Harold knew. I realized at 
once that his many kind attentions, his extreme consideration, had 
been for the purpose of letting me know, intuitively, that he knew. 
And, as the days and weeks passed, and the warm months of July 
and August passed, he and I spent many hours together walking and 
talking and reading the most sublime and inspiring literature from 
the pen of man and the mind of God. I knew he loved me intuition 
had told me that when it would not tell me what else he knew. 
And, knowing, he loved me; knowing my sin, my error, my failing, 
he loved and respected me. I remember that one Sunday when 
modesty kept me from going to church with him as I had been doing, 
he read to me from the Bible, and he read so slowly, so impressively, 


the verses: 'Learn to do well, seek judgment, relieve the oppressed, 
judge the fatherless, plead for the widow. Come now, let us reason 
together, saith the Lord: though your sins be as scarlet, they shall 
be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall 
be as wool/ 

"As Fall came, and then Winter, Harold pleaded with me to marry 
him. He knew I loved the one who was gone, still idolized him and 
forgave him for the error .of his life for I wanted to believe that he 
would come back to me had not something terrible happened to pre- 
vent But, my child must have a name! Oh, how those words rang 
in my ears! How often, as a child, I had heard the stinging rebuke 
of men and women, commenting on the life of some unfortunate child 
'it has no name; it was born in shame and sin!' I wanted my child 
to be great and good and wonderful, like his father. And so it came 
about that J married Harold. 

"We were married just before Christmas and only the pastor of 
the little church knew our secret and he prayed with us and spoke 
of the noble love Harold had. As the honor of his act, the sacrifice 
he was making, dawned on me after that day, I came to love him for 
the soul that shone through his body. It was like a light that shines 
in the valley of shadows. 

"At last came the day really unexpected when the greatest lesson 
of life was to be learned. January 1st, 1875! Early in the morning 
I called to dear old Mrs. Rollins for advice. She called Harold and 
he drove through the cold of the bitter morning to get the doctor 
and a nurse. They returned at nearly six. It was still dark and I 
was well, I have forgotten the suffering. I only know that as the 
hours came and I counted the minutes in suspense I thought of 
but one thing: Will my baby live? I wanted it to be a little man 
and look like his father. I prayed for this, I cried and sobbed, in 
fear that it might not be so. Some are born dead. I had been warned 
not to worry about the absent one, lest it affect the soul of the un- 
born child; but the fear came now, in the hours, the last hours of 

"As the sun rose in the sky and penetrated through the fogs and 
the winter clouds, I felt that the last hours of my life had come. 
I became exhausted and depressed. I remember lying upon the bed 
in the corner of the room and looking at the empty cradle near by 
and wondering if it would never be otherwise. I dosed my eyes and 
prayed, prayed as Harold had taught me to pray. And as I prayed 
there seemed to be the voice of an angel whispering comfort and 
encouragement to me. I keenly felt the very Soul of God in my 


presence and knew then that God was standing guardian over the 
birth of my little baby. At each cry to heaven for I knew not what 
I felt the magnetic, soothing, Inspiring presence of something around 
me that appeared several times to be bathed in radiant white light. 
It was as though the Light of Heaven opened at times and shone 
upon me to strengthen me, to tell me that all would be well, that my 
baby would be born alive that life was there, waiting, waiting, wait- 
ing for me." 

Rollins felt his mother sobbing. Her hands trembled now on his 
head, her whole body vibrating with the emotion that was overwhelm- 
ing her. The last words she spoke were said slowly and softly, tears 
and sobs breaking the even rhythm of her voice. Yet, he would not 
look up Into her eyes the time had not yet come for that. There 
was a minute coming, he felt sure, when she would need his help 
need what, even now, he was ready to give. 

"And then Harold came to me. He had attended to some things 
at the barn and In the kitchen. He was anxious over my safety and 
my desires as though it were the coming of his child. With 
a tenderness that only a woman can appreciate at such times, and 
with a love that was holy and good, abundant, and not self-conscious, 
he did all he could. He kissed me, smoothed my disarranged hair, held 
my hand, and told me In every way possible that he was with me In 
spirit and soul as well as body. 

"I do not remember much more. Nervously I awaited the words 
of the nurse. It Is a boy a fine boy.* Mrs. Rollins, too, was relieved 
at these words, for she stood by and was so sympathetic. Then I 
heard Harold talking to the baby In the cradle. They say he kissed 
the little hands, and then said oh! I recall easily the words 'Baby 
man, we will bless you as God has done, and your name will be, 
William Howard Rollins/ That was your father's name, my boy; 
and Harold meant that we, he and I, would always bless you and 
reverence you, even though the world might some day learn your 
mother's shame and dishonor you. And, in giving you your father's 
name, Harold meant to make me happy to give back to me again 
my William my lost William. And I have had you, boy-man, 
ever since, for God was good to me and gave me the soul of my love. 
Can you forgive me, my boy? Can you ever, ever look at me again 
and say that you understand, you know, you forgive, and that you 
love your mother?" 

Slowly Rollins rose to his feet. His mother was slipping toward 
the floor in exhaustion. Quickly he took her into his arms and kissed 
the tear-stained cheeks, then the sobbing lips. 


"Mother I why I I am not the one to forgive or refuse to 
forgive. God made mothers like yon, God gave you the Soul you 
have, and God gave me the Soul I have, and God united us that day 
in a way that not even you understand. Your love was good, your 
faith, your trust all that was as pure as snow. There are no crim- 
son spots to wipe away nothing to forgive. God bless you, and let 
us forget that any man ever thought your love a sin or your act a 
shame. You have proved both to have been God's own decree. But, 
tell me, Mother, where did Harold go?" 

The mother sat down again, reassured, comforted, but still unable 
to look at her boy, her man, in the eyes. "That day he was hurt and 
then died, through a runaway of the horses that had earlier taken 
him to get the physician. As I said, I never knew until the next day 
what had happened on the yesterday. Sometimes the delaying of sad 
news of a yesterday until tomorrow is a blessing. It was so in my 
case; I hope it will be so in this case." 

"And, Mother, just one more point to complete the picture of that 
memorable day. Was I covered in that cradle with a hand-crocheted 
blanket that you had made?" 

Startled, the trembling woman arose. Glancing at him inquiringly, 
she said: 

"William, have you found even the one little secret that I wanted 
to keep? Oh, I suppose it was futile, but I have tried all these years 
to keep that away and preserve it. Yet somehow, you must have 
found it and have discovered it. Yes, during those days of waiting I 
had made a little blanket, knowing that winter was coming and the 
little baby would need every bit of warmth possible m the old house. 
And with each stitch I worked into that blanket thoughts of love for 
my missing William. Harold knew this too, and never said anything 
except to make tender references to how my little baby would be 
wrapped in thoughts of purest love. I have kept that blanket all these 
years, have often kissed it and hugged it while the tears came to my 
eyes. It is all all that I have saved from those days those days 
of saddest love. And now you know all, William. Take me to my 
room and let me sleep the sleep of peace at last; for I need no 
longer hide my secret in my heart or hide the blanket of love from 
your eyes/' 


Again Rollins returned to Ibis study. It was near noon. In another 
hour lunch would be served, yet he was sure that he would not eat, 
could not eat, in the mental attitude he was in just now. Seating 
himself in the easy chair again, he was ready to speculate once more 
on the things that were rapidly filling his life with new interest. 

"So William Rollins was my father," he mused half aloud, "and 
Harold Rollins was his cousin, my stepfather. My mother married 
Harold Rollins. I was born a Rollins I am a Rollins by blood and 
by birth. The world can say nothing of that. It is a perfect title, 
a perfect chain. It is only the material side of the whole affair, after 
all, and I am more interested in the other. Poor little woman, how 
she did suffer. And she does not know the facts as I know them. 
Facts? Yes, the actual facts, for has not the story of my mother 
verified the story, the vision, I heard and saw there last night? 
Imagination? A fabric of the mind? Then, I, the self within me, the 
Soul of that little woman, the experiences of her life, the suffering 
she bore the tears she shed all imagination, too? Impossible!" 

And Rollins was right. The mother's story, even in the minute 
details that might easily have been forgotten or even misunderstood 
by the man, were identical. No imagining of the mind could create 
so correct a reflection of the actual events of the past, the child's 
memory could not remember the events of its early fife, or even the 
stories that it might have heard. -Yet, was that impossible? Was 
the child-memory locked against the storing and preserving of tales 
it might acquire in babyhood, and release again as a fantasy, in 

How could he be sure that at one time in his childhood in years 
when he was a boy of ten or even fifteen he had not overheard his 
mother telling someone about the events of that day? While for- 
gotten now, so far as objective recollection was concerned, still the 
story may have recorded itself for preservation. It may have been 
entered on why, the pages of the Diary of the Past! THE DIARY! 
He had forgotten about it. Since last evening, he had turned back- 


ward to two adjoining days of the past in the diary of memory 
perhaps? That was a simple answer. 

He remembered reading somewhere or perhaps he had been told 
by some one that when a person is in the deeper stages of hypnosis, 
or a similar subjective condition, susceptible to suggestion one can 
easily be made to remember or recall from the archives of the mem- 
ory the events and incidents of certain days of the past. Such ex- 
periments often and scientifically made, proved the existence of a 
perfect storehouse of memories, impressions. Only the necessary con- 
dition, the appropriate causation, the unhampered opportunity, were 
needed to permit this storehouse, this perfect and indelible record 
of all realizations, to marshal themselves out to the borderline of 
consciousness and be realized again. Concentration of all the active 
faculties, incentives, suggestion, relaxation, hypersensitiveness to im- 
pressions these conditions were necessary and they were controlling 
Rollins' mind and physical condition at the time he had had his 
experiences. Scientifically, his experiences were psychological ones, 
hallucinations, illusions, phantasms of the memory, almost anything. 
But to Rollins, they were realities that required no actualities to 
make them of value to him. No, the scientific analysis and explana- 
tions of them would not suffice. There was something more than mere 
mentetism in all this. 

I It has been said that there is a key to the past, a link that unites 
the present with the past, and that with this key one might easily 
lift the veil to enter the forbidden chamber and read the records there. 
Delving, then, into the past would be like delving into the recesses 
of the memory for a forgotten fact; all one needs is the associated 
fact, as a key, and with this the forgotten fact is brought to light. 1 
If all that came to Rollins in the past twenty-four hours came as air 
insight into the past, what was the link? What was the key? He 
asked the questions over and over, and, then, mentally analyzed how 
it all began. At once he thought of the diary, turning the pages of 
yesterdays in the yesteryears of long ago. The Diary! Again its 
very soul, its entity as a thing, impressed him. It seemed like a thing 
alive! And did not Casaubon, the great French theologian of the 
16th century, make his diary, the famed Ephemerides, a thing that 
lived for centuries? 

To the diary must Rollins return. He felt it it was impelling. 
Once in his hand, it seemed to vibrate life, animation, exhilaration, 
creative power. Truly it was attuned with the unknown, yet it was 
a mere book; and on not one page was there a word which could be 


interpreted as referring, in the remotest sense, to what had been 
aroused In the atmosphere of that room. 

With the dosed book in his hand, merely to satisfy the idea that 
there was some key required, he leaned back again into relaxation in 
the chair of contemplation, and waited. But one thought occupied 
his mind. "I will turn back the pages of the diary of the past to the 
yesterday of the yesterlife!" He re-expressed the thought audibly 
as a command unto himself. 

How many minutes passed while Rollins sat there with his eyes 
closed is not known, but he was drawn from the silence of his con- 
centration by hearing a peculiar humming sound throughout the 
room. Opening his eyes he saw nothing at first, but slowly there 
formed a great violet haze in the corner of his room where but a 
single chair stood in darkness. Gradually the haze formed itself into 
a mass near the floor, and then elongated into a form that eventually 
perhaps after five minutes of time formed itself into a couch or 
couch-bed. It was covered with blankets and sheets and there was 
an old man lying under the covers with only the head and one arm 

More of the picture for picture it seemed began to form now, 
as Rollins stared in deep concentration, even breathing slowly lest 
the spell be broken. At the side of the couch-bed sat another old 
man. His hand was holding the hand of the other the man who 
was lying there ill. It was another scene of sorrow. The very at- 
mosphere of the picture breathed again pain and sadness. The arm 
of the sick man was pale and thin. It hung almost lifeless. The man 
who sat at the side of the bed was intent in his study of the older 
man's face. A crucial moment seemed to be at hand. 

The violet aura or haze surrounded the whole picture, and divided 
the picture from the rest of Rollins* study in which it was being 
enacted. The wall behind the couch seemed to be of a different color 
and nature than that of the study, and seemed to be farther away. 

Rollins watched and waited for developments, but again he ex- 
perienced the peculiar sensation of his consciousness leaving his body 
and being over there, somewhere in the picture itself. Now he was 
completely there. He could feel the difference of the atmosphere; the 
room he was now in was cold. He seemed to be at the side no, just 
over and alongside of the man on the couch. He was there unseen. 

With the new position of his consciousness there came a clearer 
realization of what was transpiring. The old man was ill was, 


in fact, dying. It was merely a matter of time, perhaps minutes, when 
he would breathe his last breath. But how? Why? Where? These 
questions must be answered first. And as each question came to mind 
there came the answer, not in words, but in that inner understanding 
that was so strange to him to his ordinary understanding; but it did 
not perplex him now. 

So far as Rollins could see, there were many odd things in the 
corner of the room in which the couch and the men were located. 
But most prominent were the many paintings framed and unframed, 
and some even unfinished. The room seemed to be empty of those 
things so familiar when a woman shares the home. The untidiness, 
the signs of dust and neglect indicated that the impressions that the 
old man had been ill very long, and done, were correct. The other 
man was a physician. He was in a hopeless attitude, but had just 
administered a potion which would prolong life. The old man was 
struggling, inwardly; for at times he gasped and after each gasp a 
little color would come to the cheeks. 

Desiring to know more of the story, Rollins, or rather the con- 
sciousness of Rollins, leaned over the body of the sick man, and 
hovered there a few minutes. The old man gasped again, and open- 
ing his eyes said falteringly: 

"See see! There just above me my Soul. It is leaving me 
it wants to go, it is hovering there waiting, waiting, waiting." The 
words died out in weakness. But they were not the words of an 
American, they were not English they were French. But the con- 
sciousness of Rollins understood . 

As the import of the man's exclamation dawned upon Rollins he 
was startled. Did it mean that he, Rollins, was witnessing his own 
Soul in transition from another body? What else could these words 

The thought seemed to be the result of the fact, for at once the 
consciousness of Rollins the mind, the intellect answered, "I am 
that Soul/* 

Then came the sensation of attunement, a peculiar connection of 
some kind, with the man's body. Rollins felt the weakness the old 
man was feeling. He felt a dry parched mouth, a desire for water, 
and as he realized this, the old man lifted his hand and said: "Water, 
water, please some water." The physician turned and picked up a 
wooden cup and lifted the old man partially upright while he put 
the cup to his lips. Rollins could feel the cooling drink go down his 
throat. Then, the ease of temperature manifested itself and Rollins 
noticed for the first time that he was warm. The old man closed his 


eyes and sank into relaxation and as lie did so, the consciousness of 

Rollins seemed to become lighter and almost to float in space above 

the couch. 

Suddenly the cry came again for more water. This time the physi- 
cian put some powder into the water and gave it to the man to drink. 
Immediately Rollins tasted the element in the water, but it was cool- 
ing and soothing. 

In a moment or two a peculiar sensation came over the conscious- 
ness of both, the old man and Rollins. The old man began to quiver 
and cried: "No, no more, 1 want to go on, I do not want to stay. 
Why do you give me that again? I was eased. I saw that I was going 
and was happy/' To Rollins the effect of the powder was that of 
making his consciousness heavy, thickening it, it seemed, and drawing 
it down, and down, and down into the body of the old man. It 
pulled, it strained, it stressed. 

The consciousness did not want to stay, the body of the man did 
not want to hold it but something fiery, strong, gross, unnatural, 
was pulling the two together. It was uncomfortable; the old man 
wept in pain. The consciousness of Rollins could stand the situation 
no longer. It would free itself from this bondage. It grew stronger, 
it grew lighter, it rose slightly from its dose position to the body. 
Its sense became more keen, it could feel its own entity. It seemed 
to be a living personality now, almost independent of the body there 
but connected by a mere haze a violet aura. Then it spoke, the 
voice coming from the very density of the consciousness: 

"I will be free! I am the Master of my destiny while here, and the 
decree shall be fulfilled and the hand of man shall not alter or modify 
that which is written in the Great Book. It is my time to pass on 
to the Kingdom of Light and be illuminated by the Greater Light. 
Long has this body served me well for the work I came to do 
the work decreed for me when into it I came. But now that body 
can no longer stand the power of the Light within, it can no longer 
serve without hindrance, work without breaking down, assist with 
efficiency, the mission of my time. Your poisons and your drugs are 
of the stuff the body is made of the dust of the ground; and they 
cannot do more than strangle the mind, paralyze the sense and hold 
fast to that which is better gone. Peace should come to the old body 
there which knows only what I know, which suffers only what I 
suffer, which rejoices when I rejoice. For, it has no consciousness of 
its own. Its mind is my mind, its Light is my light, its Life is my 
life. It is nothing of itself. It wants nothing, can have nothing. 


Away with It, for I want it not, and I AM ALL THERE IS TO 
MAN, and / have life eternal!' 3 

From the old man there came a gasp a sudden jerking of the 
body, a tenseness that made the body rigid, and then a slow relaxa- 
tion which left the body limp. And, as the relaxation came, there 
was a slow exhalation of all the air in the cells of the lungs and 
the soul that hovered above, united to the body by only the aura, 
slowly floated off into space and illumined the darkened walls as it 
passed by. Reaching the upper part of the room the soul-conscious- 
ness spoke gently and sweetly: "Peace, peace unto all, for I am risen! 
From the tomb have I come, resurrected. Long did I suffer and try 
to make my escape that I might be free to give greater Light unto 
the world, but man in his ignorance and vanity held me fast, cruci- 
fied upon the Cross of false realities. Man's body is the Cross upon 
which all Souls are crucified because man makes it so. On that cross 
have I been like a rose held fast by the entwining stems and the thorns. 
The tears were the dewdrops that came from the petals and left 
the perfume of immortality to radiate into the aura of the Soul. But 
I am free, free to return to the Kingdom of Light, where Souls 
unite in sacred communion and abide in the mansions of the Mind 
of God/' 

As the violet haze passed on and faded from view, the couch and 
the man sank into darkness as behind a veil, and Rollins, the man, 
came slowly back to self -consciousness again. Rubbing his eyes, tired 
from the long strain of concentration, he straightened his tall body, 
stretched out his arms, horizontally at each side to take a deep breath, 
when again the words rang in his ears: "On that cross have I been 
like a rose." Quickly he dropped his arms as he realized that his 
posture was that of a cross THE CROSS. He dropped back into 
his chair, and for the first time since childhood this great strong man 
wept. He had witnessed the passing of his Soul from the body in 
its previous life the yesterlife of another century. 

V V V 



As time, place, and circumstance dawned upon Rollins* conscious- 
ness he found himself staring at the old painting, the mysterious 
landscape with the incomplete name of Raymond, It seemed older 
now, and it breathed an atmosphere of some incident of life. Did 
his memory recall the scene? He was not sure. And, as he studied 
the details of the picture, each growing more vibrant with life until 
it was as though he were gazing through a window out upon some 
foreign valley with its purple-tinted hills, his eyes wandered to the 
corner where the large R of Raymond was plainly visible, even at 
the distance he was from it and in the soft light of his lamp. Then 
he was startled. He had seen that R, with peculiar, bold formation, 
before. Truly; and he had seen similar pictures. The old room! The 
finished and unfinished paintings on the walls and standing about. 
Some were signed and the name on them was RAYMOND. There 
was no other name after it, but there had been a mark; not a name 
but a symbol. The symbol was faint on the painting now upon his 
wall, but its faintness had led him, and others, to believe that it was 
the beginning of another name and they had sought in vain for that 
other name. 

Jumping from his chair like one suddenly possessed of a key to a 
great secret, he removed the painting from the wall, and with the 
aid of a magnifying glass, one that had been so used many times, he 
studied the signature again. There was just a little space after the d 
of Raymond and then there was a mark, or possibly two marks, that 
suggested the letter V, the beginning of the letter W, or possibly the 
upper part of the letter Y, or, perhaps, the last part of the letter N, 
or the center of the letter M. Having always believed that these in- 
distinct marks were the beginning of a second name, he traced out 
certain other faint brush strokes as being part of the faded name. 
But now he saw that this was the work of the imagination, for the 
brush strokes just as easily formed a part of the shrubbery in the 
foreground as imagination made them a part of the name. No, there 
was nothing truly definite except the first name and the two addi- 
tional marks which now suggested a symbol. 


Closing his eyes, he tried to recall the paintings he had seen on 
the wall of the room behind the old man who had just passed to the 
beyond in his last strange scene* Distinctly he saw the name of 
Raymond on a number of them, and just as distinctly a mark of some 
kind following the name, but the nature of the marks he could not 
recall, could not clearly visualize. Why had he not paid more atten- 
tion to these pictures? And how came those pictures there? Was it 
an artist's studio he had seen? And was the old man an artist? Was 
he, this old man, Raymond? Was he? Then . . . 

One can easily appreciate the nervous tension, the holding of the 
breath, the rapid heartbeat, the joy that overcame his emotions as 
he realized the fact that he, Rollins, in one incarnation of his Soul, 
had been Raymond, the artist, whose one great painting now hung 
upon the wall, whose identity he and others had sought in vain. That 
was why Rollins had such a strange liking for nature's scenery, while 
outdoor life otherwise did not appeal to him. That was why he loved 
landscape paintings. He was carrying over, from a past life, from the 
yesterdays of old, the likes and desires, the ideals and the standards 
of previous experiences. 

Here was a subject for deep study. Could there be such a thing 
as heredity of mind as well as blood? Is the man of today the result 
physically of the blood of his forebears, and mentally of his own 
evolution? Is the body, after all, but a material cloak made of the 
blending of substances of many bodies, while the mind, the Soul, is 
of one continuous strain of divine essence? 

Hanging the picture on the wall almost unconsciously, lost in the 
wonder of the abstract problem that now occupied his reasoning, he 
walked to the secluded bookcases and, after unlocking one section, he 
took from it a book entitled, Heredity and Its Laws. Sitting down 
again he turned page after page seeking for some chapter heading, 
some caption, some phrase which might throw light upon this new 
idea of soul-rebirth. But he was disappointed. He was about to look, 
almost hopelessly, in the Encyclopedia, when the chimes in the hall- 
way announced that lunch was ready. 

It was a holiday and courtesy demanded that this day he should 
show consideration to his mother and not deprive her of his company 
all day. Surely after all this his mother and he ought to find greater 
joy in their companionship. So, to the dining room Rollins wended 
his way, determined to submit to her his newest problem. 

After lunch had been partially served the discussion began. It 
would help to make their time of sitting together that much longer. 


'Tittle Mother, did you ever read or hear anything about the 
rebirth or shall I say, the reincarnation, of souls?" he began. 

"Not a great deal, William!" she replied, plainly surprised at the 
question and more surprised at the trend of his thoughts. "You know 
the Bible speaks of several instances where the prophets were, seem- 
ingly, wise men who came back to earth to live again. But I presume 
that you refer to the teachings of some new school of philosophy. 
I have not studied them nor even read more than that there is some 
theory of reincarnation, as they call it." 

"But, Mother, from what you have read or heard, can you tell me 
what it is that reincarnates or is reborn? I realize that it is not the 
body, nor the blood, nor . . ." 

"But you are mistaken, William, right at the start, or rather, in- 
formation which you have in that regard is erroneous. From the 
pitttle that I have heard, I believe it is claimed, and quite logically, 
that the Soul, being divine and immortal, is the part of man which 
is reborn in man. Upon this is the doctrine of reincarnation basedl 
Of its principles I can say but little, but I stopped you in your state* 
meat because you were touching upon a subject in which I have 
interested myself very considerably. You remember giving me a book 
on heredity to read? In it I found many interesting facts regarding 
eugenics and child-hygiene. That, you know, has always interested 
me, and I believe that you can now associate my interest in that subject 
with your own birth. I remember reading a book entitled Being 
Born Well. It opened again the sad event of your birth and the 
chapters of my life in the past. But I found much satisfaction in 
some of the principles set forth and from that time on, I devoted my 
study hours to that subject and gave my spare time to helping the 
Civic Hygiene Board of this city. Do you know, William, that it 
has been found that the blood of one's body is essentially reincarnated 
from generation to generation, as is claimed for the Soul? It was 
your statement that it is not the body, nor the blood, that rein- 
carnates which made me interrupt you. I am quite sure you were 
in error." 

"This is intensely interesting, and I want to hear more about it. 
In fact, Mother, it, seems to me, I am in a new world these last 
twenty-four hours. How greatly I have neglected my reading, and 
how I have locked myself up in the business world and ignored the 
greater world of science, or at least, philosophy; for I do not suppose 
that the principles you are speaking of, or those which interest me 
in the Soul, are even honored by any attention on the part of cold 
science. You see, a business man gets into the habit of thinking the 


whole world consists of business. Every man and woman one meets 
must be in some business, or else he belongs to the other class con- 
sumers, customers, or clients. A man is always a potential power in 
dollars and cents, or else he is nothing. A woman is always well 
a mother, or a wife, or a sweetheart, or a plaything, with no place 
in big business and incompetent to assume such a place. The face 
of the earth is covered with either oil wells, mineral mines, coal 
mines, or timber, railroads or steamship lines. The sun shines to 
help salesmen make more calls, the rain falls to help the crops and 
prevent market losses. A day consists of one-sixth of a business week 
and time is governed by time-clocks and production-costs and payrolls. 
Sunday is a day for going over books and making a few personal calls 
at homes when it is difficult to meet men at business. Plays, theatres, 
and places of amusement are for salesmen to take their prospective 
customers to, that they may bribe orders and win favors and they 
help keep money in circulation. Churches are to ease the dissatisfac- 
tion of the laboring classes, make them feel joyous with spiritual things 
when they have nothing of the material world, and promise them 
everything in the future if they remain good with nothing here. 

"Marriage is sentimental foolishness with the young, and a business 
deal, a financial alliance, with the old. Children are elements of a big 
field of business hats, shoes, clothes, books, toys, and insurance 
policies. Life is a bridge of possibilities between the follies of youth 
and the imbecilities of old age. Love is a condition of the mind that 
helps business watches, rings, more jewelry, clothes, fine stationery, 
books, candy, and hundreds of other things which would not be made 
or sold otherwise. Death is a cheater or an easy way out, according 
to one's predicament at the time. Home is a business asset, counting 
more in a business man's rating on the market than in any other way. 
Mothers are a necessity and a dependable help in time of personal 
emergency, f The past belongs to the failures in life, the present be- 
longs to the successes, and the future belongs to the dreamers^ A 
newspaper is a press-agent of business and a tattletale of personal 
things. Bah! you know how many of my associates, and even myself, 
have looked upon life and all there is to it." 

He stopped at the startled look on his mother's face. "You seem 
surprised at what I say, and yet, Mother, you must have felt many 
times that was how I looked upon all things. But I realize now that 
there is something even more interesting than the problem of produc- 
tion and selling, manufacturing and marketing, cost and profit, profit 
and loss. Maybe I have crossed the bridge between the follies of youth 
and the imbecilities of old age; perhaps I am on the brink of that last 


span of life. But tMs I know, I am more enthusiastic about the past 
and the future today than I have ever been. 

"Men are always so self-centered. The average business man cares 
more about his personal ego, the self within, and around him, than 
about the rest of the world. Yet, I see now, where I and others have 
been cheating ourselves in ignoring some of the facts of life in the 
desire to put the sun of the universe in our own individual solar 

"The _ average business man seeks power dominating, increasing, 
unflinching power. But he has overlooked the one great source of 
power knowledge of the real self and its possibilities. Every great 
or prominent man in the world today boasts of his ancestry, is proud 
of the forebears who achieved, and he looks to their strength to help 
him dominate the world today. But he misses the greatest prop, the 
strongest foundation, in overlooking the ancestry of the mind that 
rales him the mind which is his own and yet not his own. Every 
mighty factor in the big-business world today seeks to be well in- 
formed regarding every law of city, county, state, and land that he 
may take advantage of potent power therein. He seeks, through his 
hired advisers, to utilize every power that the courts and constitutions 
of business give him. He engages experts to keep htm posted on the 
advances of scientific achievement, that he may utilize the power of 
privileges which science reveals. He looks for opportunities every- 
where to make himself great, mighty, controlling, dominating, feared, 
and wealthy. But he overlooks the laws of nature in her processes 
and in her ways. I see the great mistake now. I am going to change 
my life and before it is too late, I am going to make myself mighty 
with some knowledge that courts of law in man's land, bankruptcy 
proceedings, business failures, and market quotations cannot take from 
me. That's my determination, and so now I want to hear more about 
the reincarnation of the blood." 

"I am afraid/* she began timidly, "that yon are not using a term 
that science would accept, for science really has taken up this subject 
in a way that will be hard for me to explain. But the term reincarna- 
tion would be rejected by science. In its pkce the term continuity of 
the germ -plasm should be substituted. 

"You see, William, for years many forms of insanity, such as 
dementia praecox, for instance, have been considered as traceable to 
hereditary traits or taints. Then, again* many mental habits, physical 
habits, and general tendencies are also traced to the result of heredity 
and they are called inherited characteristics. Up to a few years ago, 
the principles of heredity were considered as theoretical, and science 


smiled at many of them. Now, recent discoveries or rather observa- 
tions, reveal that the principles so long advanced are true and other 
principles not even suspected are also true. 

"Man as a species of animal life Is just the result of inheritance. 
Every trait of character, of mind and body, like the species of Hs 
physical being, comes to him as an inheritance or because of his en- 
vironment and education. The doctrine that *as a man thinketh so 
is he' applies only to those few traits classified as acquired character- 
istics; otherwise man is what his forebears have made him through 
their thinking, their living, their environment, and their education. 
Every man is the sum total of his direct line of parentage and is 
himself adding to that sum for the next generation. 

"It was believed at one time that the germ plasm of both male and 
female parents were creations of the organism of the individual parent, 
and that each germ plasm contained only the characteristics of the 
parent. Now it is known that the germ plasm that enters into the 
formation of an embryo contains not only the characteristics of the 
parent, but also of the grandparents for many, many generations." 

"Why, Mother, do you mean to say that the germ plasm entering 
into each embryo was not a distinct and individualistic creation in the 
body of the parent? In other words, is the germ plasm a continuous 
element or essence never losing its entity and individualistic nature 
from generation to generation?" 

/ "Precisely, William. That is what is called the continuity of the 
germ plasm. This germ plasm contains the elements of character and 
species. It passes from generation to generation and gives from itself 
the necessary elements to reproduce its nature and characteristics, but 
is never wholly lost in the process. Each generation of species adds 
to it of its acquired characteristics, so that from generation to gen- 
eration, it is always the sum of all that has passed before it. All this 
was made so plain and dear with diagrams and illustrations the other 
evening Thursday evening at the monthly meeting of the Civic 
Hygiene Board. The professor has been giving us a series of talks on 
the subject of heredity and we understand now the meaning of the 
admonition 'unto the fourth and fifth generations/ and so on. 

"You see, each cell of living matter utilized in the process of fer- 
tilization and development into the embryo first passes through a series 
of division so that the final cell of the female, called the ovum, and 
the final cell of the male, called the spermatozoon, are each composed 
of certain portions of the original germ plasm. In the nucleus of the 
cell there are hereditary elements called chromosomes and these, ac- 
cording to a definite law, are numbered in each cell for species, nature, 


and condition. The remainder of the cell has its bearing upon the 
character ^ of the embryo, of course, but It has to do more with the 
modifications that are to be made by each generation and are accumu- 
lated by each and passed along." 

"Does that mean," he inquired after some thought, "that in my 
body, In my blood, tissues and bones, there are some of the Identical 
elements that composed the blood, tissue, and bones of my ancestors, 
my remotest ancestors?" 

"Yes, in^ a direct line. And all your brothers, all your cousins, 
every one In this generation of your family, would have the same 
elements plus the modifications resulting from marriage In the previous 
generation. Within jour body, William, in the cells that will re- 
produce themselves and fertilize the ovum, there Is chromatin sub- 
stance, which becomes the essential chromosomes, and this chromatin 
within the ceils of your body Is some of the Identical chromatin that 
existed in the cells of your most remote grandfather and grand- 

"Then that means that instead of new chromosomes being created 
by each generation, the chromosomes simply duplicate themselves 
and continue to divide and divide until in the last generation, per- 
haps after a hundred generations, there are still some of the same 

"Precisely. Yet, in dividing, these chromosomes do not weaken In 
characteristics or essential nature. In each generation they divide 
many times and each divided segment grows to full size again, retain- 
ing its precise nature, ready to fertilize an ovum and within that 
ovum reproduce its nature again. That Is what science has recently 
discovered and proved to be true. Remember, William, these chromo- 
somes of the cells, microscopically small as they are, contain the ele- 
ments of every other cell that forms the many kinds of cells in a 
matured body, plus characteristics of species, plus characteristics of 
appearance, even family resemblance, plus nature, plus mind, plus 
tendencies, plus everything that makes personality and individuality. 
That which makes you precisely like every other man, and that which 
makes you a child of a certain line of ancestry all this Is contained 
in the chromosomes of every one of the myriad of cells that mature In 
the body for the purpose of reproduction." 

"That is astounding, Mother! Why, then the blood in my body, 
the bones, the tissues and membranes of every organ and muscle and 
vessel, the cells of the hair, of the brain ail within and of me, is that 
of my foreparents, reborn. I am not I, but all of my forefathers and 
foremothers united. They did not die, for I am all of them reborn! 


What they cast off were dying cells, while other cells of their bodies 
were perpetuated and lived and now are In me!'* 

"But that is merely an exaggerated and bombastic way to look at 
it. But you can safely say that you are what they were, plus what 
you have added by education and environment." 

"And," he said rather slowly, "if all that is true and I can not 
doubt it if science has found the law I am well, with a rein- 
carnated soul ... a sort of dual person, after all, or, the flesh and 
bones and blood of my body are of the family of Rollins . . . but 
the soul and mind within me are . . . those of Raymond . . . pos- 
sibly o&hers." 

"Why, what do you mean?" the mother asked, surprised. 

"I cannot fully explain, not at this time. I must have a little more 
time to work it out, but a great light is dawning upon me and I think 
I see the scheme of the universe revealing itself to me as few have ever 
dreamed. I must learn more . . . but how?" 

"I cannot help you in your strange thinking, William. I am quite 
satisfied with what the Professor told us. We are nothing more or 
less than what our foreparents made us plus environment and edu- 

"No, no, Mother. You are wrong. All that you have said may 
be true, and I believe every word of it. It cannot be otherwise. 
I see that plainly. But, all you have referred to, all that science has 
discovered, relates to the physical and worldly man, the material and 
brain part of man. There is the Soul the memory the inner per- 
sonality. That cannot be transmitted by chemical or physical sub- 
stance, and that is what I am interested in now. Pardon me, Mother. 
I must return to my study. I must finish my little researches today. 
Tomorrow the business world begins again and I am going to enter 
it with a different spirit. This earth this world is now my home, and 
men and women are now my kin my brethren. I will deal with them 
as such even to the most humble in my employ. I have a work to do 
a message to bring to the cold world of business. Perhaps I have 
found my mission, the Light that must shine through me/* 

And off he went to his study, moved inwardly by the gradual 
realization of the touch of divine inspiration. He was no longer 
William Howard Rollins, the business man, but a Light on earth, an 
incarnated Soul, an earthly segment of the Divine with an earthly 
mission. His mother watched him leave her presence in thought and 
knew that it was a changed man who dwelt in her house and some- 
how, strange though it seemed, she looked upon his moving figure 
with as much reverence as though through the room and out into 


the balls there moved silently the figure of the Master Jesus who had 
come to break bread with her and go on to the work that must be 

God's presence was there; she felt It; knew it. But how? How 
came this through a man who had never before indicated even the 
slightest interest in Church, the Bible, or God? A miracle had been 
wrought since yesterday. Today was the anniversary of his birth; ft 
was more than this it was the day of his rebirth, she thought. It 
was the day of awakening, the holy day of illumination resurrection. 

V V V 



Returning to his study, Rollins put away the book on heredity 
with a smile. He had saved it as being the last word on that subject, 
but evidently, it had become antiquated by the recent discoveries in 
that field; and he pondered over the rapid changes that were being 
made in scientific principles and more especially in the knowledge of 
man and nature. 

"Truly," he said to himself, "little that one knows is of a nature 
to remain permanently. Change, change, change! That is all there 
is, even to knowledge. The great Greek philosopher who said that 
'matter is always becoming was certainly right and it applies to our 
knowledge as well. Matter is always changing, becoming something, 
and never really is something for any length of time. Knowledge 
is also becoming more and more accurate, more nearly true, and 
the facts or theories of yesterday may be fallacies or superstitions 

The word yesterday brought to mind the Diary. He had not com- 
pleted his analysis of it, and tomorrow business began again for the 
new fiscal year. He must complete his review of the yesterdays in 
that book. 

Closing the bookcase, he took his Diary from the desk again, seated 
himself in an easy chair, adjusted the reading light, and with a sigh, 
leaned back comfortably to think. That book! The Diary! Was it 
alive? Did it have between its pages people, places, conditions, all 
animated with a vibrating life? Could he not feel a vibrant essence 
fairly pushing itself through the covers and from the edges of the 
leaves? His arm trembled from the pulsations it gave to his hand. 
More than a year of life and action was presented in that book's 
notations. A lifetime a generation, many generations, all time past, 
a thousand years, perhaps a million of yesterdays, were recorded there. 
It was not a book, it was a key to the past the key that unlocked the 
chambers of the past. 

Again his mind reverted to the scenes he had witnessed and he 
wished they would come again, or others more yesterdays. The 


wish! It started a stream of tingling throughout his body. He closed 
his eyes, he relaxed. He was entranced. The wish! It was a com- 
mand! It was as though a great gong had sounded. He could feel 
and hear the vibrations of the gong's note in the air. Was that what 
occurred when Aladdin rubbed the lamp and wished? Was there 
something psychological in a sincere wish expressed or realized at 
the right moment? He was lost in the mystery of this sudden ex- 

Psychology has often said, as an axiom, that suggestion results in 
the realization of anticipation in those cases where the suggestion is 
given by oneself or given as auto-suggestion. In other words, when 
the process or formula of auto-suggestion is indulged in, it presupposes 
on the part of the person certain anticipation of results. Psychology 
claims that such anticipation is necessary, is a prerequisite to realiza- 
tion. The fact is, however, that if there were no anticipation there 
would be no suggestion given. It is the hope, the faith, the belief, 
that there will be a result that induces, encourages, the person to 
give the mind a suggestion. Without such faith, hope, or belief, no 
matter how mild or weak it may be, no one would purposely give 
an auto-suggestion. Therefore, not only must anticipation precede 
the realization but it must precede the suggestion. That unconscious 
suggestions auto-suggestions even do produce results in the ab- 
sence of any anticipation, does not affect the law or principle. In 
those cases where it has been demonstrated that an unconscious sug- 
gestion given to oneself has resulted in keen realization, it has been 
found, after careful analysis, that preceding the suggestion there 
was fear 'of realization or its antithesis. In substance then, the same 
condition existed. 

I The psychology of prayer reveals that certain psychological or 
psychomenral conditions are existing and certain laws operating. 
Prayer is not, therefore, the shallow tenet of religion, but the con- 
crete manifestation of a subconscious process of mind. In every sin- 
cere wish, in every lingering hope, in every sincere desire, in every 
conscious longing, there is the essence of prayer. Prayer is but the 
deliberate expression of an inner deske a hope of mind. It is defined 
when it is expressed to God, and this adds to the faith, the hope, the 
belief in its potency. For, who would prav to God did he not first 
believe that God would hear and answer? J 

And the realization of such prayers. What of them? Are they 
even more a condition of the Soul than realities of the mind? We 
pray for the speedy recovery of a sick one. Health comes; we are 
made happy at the change. We recall our prayers, our petitions to 
God. Onr faith makes us believe that the change that has come 


is a direct result of our prayers. God lias wrought another miracle. 
With reverence and humility we glady credit God with direct inter- 
vention. In that belief, in that faith, in that purely mental realization, 
we find happiness, joy, and firmer trust in the efficacy of prayer. 
When the prayer brings not the desired result, if death comes ^to the 
sick one, we ease our minds, we excuse the disappointment, with the 
expression of faith in the better judgment of God. Our belief in the 
value of prayer is not lessened. In either case, the results of prayer 
remain, to each individual, an emotional, mental condition. 

Naturally, metaphysics and mysticism ascribe other powers to 
prayer. They teach us that in prayer to God the essential element is 
a sincere desire, a cherished hope, a dean thought, with ail the ele- 
ments of goodness and, usually, unselfishness; and that in the process 
of prayer, in the very attitude of prayer, we attune ourselves, our 
minds, with the Infinite, the Cosmic, the Divine Mind that pervades 
all things and is everywhere. That in mental or audible prayer, we 
formulate the desire in a definite phrase, we visualize the anticipated 
results, and then release that desire into the Cosmic where it naturally 
vibrates with the constructive forces, the love and goodness of Divine 
plans; and the thought, with its mystic potency, brings results. This 
does not eliminate the intervention of God, but it reduces it from 
direct to indirect, from personal to impersonal, from specific to gen- 
eral. Such phEosophy is the basis of much wonderful teaching and it 
reveals laws and principles but little realized by man. 

But to Rollins there was no mistaking the fact that the desire, 
almost definitely and audibly expressed, produced an immediate effect 
the desire to have the Diary reveal another yesterday! Was there 
not reason for anticipation? Was there not warrant for faith in the 
power of that book to open the doorway to the past and show there 
a scene of activity? 

* * * # # # 

Minutes or hours may have passed, while Rollins held the Diary 
in his hands. He did not know, he was not conscious of time. But 
he watched with concentrated interest the slow development of a 
great haze of light that gathered in the corner of his room again. 
He did not know whether his eyes were open or dosed he would 
not even try to discover. What he saw was as real to Ms senses as 
anything that the objective eye could cast upon the retina for absorp- 
tion by the nerves for translation into consciousness. What difference, 
then, did it make whether he saw objectively, or how? 

The mist became a light purple at its outer edge and a neutral 
in the center. The center then darkened until various colors 


spotted the space like the first blocking-in of colors on a canvas. 
Gradually they took form and some blended until the whole made 
a picture. As it developed its lifelike-atmosphere qualities, and be- 
came alive with feeling, the consciousness of Rollins passed from 
his body like a wraith toward the scene, stretching along with it, 
from his body to the scene itself, a misty light which radiated a 
coolness around him. Then perhaps after a minute or two Rollins 
saw, not from where his body was, but from the scene. His senses 
were with his consciousness, not with his body. From the scene in 
which he was now a part, he looked at his body on the chair, and 
that view impressed him as being but a picture, whereas his new en- 
vironment in the strange scene was real, actual. It was tempting to 
analyze such a condition, yet something urged him to think no more 
of it, to center his thoughts on where he was and what he was 
doing there. 

He looked about him. He was in a large room, the room that had 
begun to form as a misty picture and become lifelike. It was stranger 
than any room he had ever been in before. The ceiling, crossed 
at various parts with heavy wooden beams, was very high above 
the floor, perhaps sixty feet. The walls were of stone large stones 
evenly placed but not tightly united by cement. The three windows, 
set deeply in the thick walls, were arched at the top and screened 
with rough wiring, but contained bars instead of glass panes. Op- 
posite the three, windows there was an open fireplace, the recess of 
which was unusually deep and wide. In it, large logs were burning 
and before it a number of odd irons and racks were set. In the 
center of the room was a carved table, the workmanship suggesting 
great labor and skill, but the wood was unstained and unvarnished. 
It was fully twenty feet long and four feet wide. Chairs, with high 
backs, carved and finished much like the table, were in various parts 
of the room, and at one end a large combination closet and table 
upon which sat many large pieces of beautiful silver. In the closet 
could be seen silver and gold dishes and some few pieces of porcelain 
and china. 

There was a stately doorway at the opposite end of the room, the 
framework of which was massive and wonderfully carved, and in the 
center of its top there was a shield in which were carved two heraldic 
devices. The doorway suggested an entrance to a cathedral, and the 
two doors which hung therein were of iron, partially rusted, and 
ornamented. They were dosed and therefore what room was beyond, 
Rollins could not see. 


The most interesting features of the room were the many pieces 
of armor, shields and spears, and the magnificent Oriental rag that 
covered nearly the whole rough floor. To judge from the marks and 
symbols on the various shields, many different persons or families were 
represented by them, and while most of the articles of battle were 
strange and old, they showed signs of having been used. 

The room was comfortably warm and very quiet. Nothing but 
the occasional crackling of the burning logs disturbed the stillness 
that was like the stillness of a tomb. Rollins decided to investigate 
and moved toward the great door. His feet seemed heavy and un- 
natural, though the movement of his body was light and almost with- 
out weight He glanced at his feet. They were covered with heavy 
leather boots with metal pieces over the toes. When the heels touched 
upon the uncovered portion of the rough stone floor, they made a 
noise that suggested metal on the heels. He looked at his costume. 
It was like those he had seen worn on the stage In Shakespearean 
pkys. Knee breeches of a dark, heavy material, a tight-fitting coat 
of a lighter material, a soft collarless shirt, light blue in color, and 
a heavy plush or velour band of dark red about his abdomen. Sur- 
prised at his appearance, he could not reason about It, for the mind 
seemed to refuse to reason, to argue that it was useless and of no 
immediate need, 

At the side of the door there hung a heavy silken rope. Its position 
and nature suggested its use and Rollins, with the most natural air, 
stepped forward and pulled It twice. He waited. He heard a metallic 
clanging at the door and slowly the two parts of the door separated 
and there stood before him, against the dark ground of an unllghted 
hallway, a tall, heavily built man In a robe of gray tied about the 
waist with a gray cord. He bowed very courteously and said in a 
soft voice and In pure French which Rollins* mind easily and Imme- 
diately Interpreted Into English: 

**Your wish, my lord? And . . . pardon the privilege that bespeaks 
my lord's generosity ... I hope ... I pray . . . that all your wishes 
may be granted . . . this day.'* 

The feeling of surprise that came to Rollins was not nearly so great 
as must have been the surprise in the mind of the servant at Ms own 
boldness In thus speaking; for Rollins could not feel otherwise than 
that this strange incident was truly a part of his life new and yet 
familiar unexpected and yet anticipated. Many questions arose in 
the mind of Rollins, but something again told him that It was un- 
necessary; that, in fact, his questions would be illogical and he could 
easily answer them by thinking. 


But he had called the servant he must say something. Could he 
answer In French? He dared not try. He was thinking in English, or 
rather in good American. Perhaps he could simply gesticulate. What 
idea then should he express? Ah! He would ask for his hat, by simply 
making . . . 

"I will have my hat!" The words came forth with a vim, before 
Rollins could control his tongue. His mind had formulated the idea 
and it expressed itself in words immediately. They were in French, 
too ; although Rollins knew but rudiments of the language, he was not 
surprised could not be surprised at his ability to speak French. 

The servant seemed to understand, but replied with a quizzical 
tone: "Oc le causia?" 

Rollins nodded consent before he could realize what the question 
meant. . Then the words translated themselves: "Yes the causia?" 
What was a causia? He had nodded approval and . . . why it was 
a style of hat, a peculiar design. The answer came inwardly, in- 
stantly. And then why ac for yes? He had expected out but out 
was modern French, the French Rollins had learned at college, and 
oc was . . . the language of ... the old Provinces. Was he now in 
Languedoc, the ancient Province of the south of France? Again the 
answer came and it seemed so natural! 

The servant soon returned, bearing a large felt hat that had a very 
high crown, a broad brim slightly rolled and a small feather sticking 
from a cord in the back of the crown. Without betraying any sur- 
prise at the hat, he placed it on his head and moved toward the 
center of the hall as though to pass somewhere. He must go out of 
the building as an excuse for asking for the hat. The servant pre- 
ceded him in turning toward the left and then, after ringing a bell 
by pulling another rope, unfastened some heavy crosspieces of metal 
and slowly, with great exertion, opened wide the two massive metal 
doors that let in a great burst of sunlight, flooding the hallway. 
Through this Rollins walked and out onto a balcony or porch of 
marble and peculiar white rock, while the doors slowly dosed behind 

Before him there was spread the strangest and yet the most enticing 
and alluring landscape he had ever seen. It was indeed like the land 
of fairies. The intense blueness of the sky, spotted with only an oc- 
casional small gray cloud, the vivid greens of more shades than nature 
provided in America, the distant hills topped with walls that sur- 
rounded old castles or chateaux, the trees at the sides of the winding 
roads that led from the foreground to the distance, covered with a 
white that looked as pure as snow, and, as the wind blew, lifted up 


into the air and tinted the trees with white until the sides of them 
nearest the roads looked like Christmas trees decorated for the day; 
and unusually bright sunlight, the invigorating air, the faint and 
pleasing fragrance of the flowers and plants all held Rollins in a 
trance, and tie thought only of how wonderful a picture it would 
make, if he were only an artist. If he could but paint! The thought 
seemed to find some response In his mind but immediately came the 
answer but yon cannot paint. "With a sigh of regret, he turned again 
to the left and stepped down the wide stairway to the garden at the 
side of the building, where in sunken sections between stony pathways 
there were many flowers blooming, and in the center of all a beautiful 
fountain playing, permitting the light winds to waft to Ms face the 
delicate sprays of refreshing dews. 

He would examine the building and see its size. Instinctively he 
knew that fee was at the rear of the building and walked along the 
widest path to another comer of the building. He noticed without 
any considerable interest that the windows were well protected with 
iron bars and some were exceedingly narrow too narrow for the 
passage of a human body. On one side of the building there was an- 
other doorway, smaller than the one through which he had passed but 
dosed with massive iron doors. At the next corner there was a large 
turret in which there were narrow windows at various levels. A 
casual interest in them caused him to glance upward at the other parts 
of the building and he noted, again without surprise, that the second 
story of the building was much smaller than the lower floor and that 
there was a small wall around the edge of the roof, the wall being 
penetrated at places by the projecting bodies of ... gargoyles. The 
word came almost immediately from . . . memory! 

After circuiting the house he walked down the slight descending 
path toward the open field on the other side of which there seemed 
to be a public road the one which was painted with the pure white 
powder of some kind. Approaching this, he was delighted to find his 
surmise correct. The road was made of broken pieces of white chalk- 
stone and had been powdered by continued use. He stopped and 
picked up a small piece of the unpowdered stone and found that he 
could break it with his hands. As he walked he came to a small 
stone bridge over a dry creek and these stones of the bridge were 
large pieces of the white chalk. In them initials and symbols had been 
cut or scratched. He could dig into the surface of the stone with 
his fingernail! What wonderful stone, so white, so soft. 

Walking for perhaps two miles he came to a small building of very 
old appearance, situated in the very center of the intersection of four 


roads which crossed at this point. Reaching the building, which he 
noticed now was In ruin In some parts, he saw that some horses, per- 
haps fifteen, in ancient coverings, were standing at oae side of the 
building. Within there was chanting. The rhythmic Intonations, the 
pauses, the very response that his Soul gave to die sounds, Indicated 
that some sacred chant was being expressed by a number of voices. 
He approached the door. There was but one step, and this he took, 
bringing himself on the very threshold of an unknown temple. But, 
stranger though he knew himself to be, it seemed not only familiar, 
but the right thing to do be must enter! 

Once within, he noted that there was no roof to this old building, 
nor had there ever been. There was no provision for one. It was an 
open-air temple of Roman design. At the four sides of the square 
room there were separate altars upon a slightly raised platform. 
Before each altar a fire was burning, and fronting each of these 
were two rows of rough wooden benches. Upon these benches sat 
men and women, with heads bowed down, chanting this sacred, soul- 
stirring Incantation. The walls were of stone, but decorated with 
symbols which seemed familiar but nameless. Back of each altar but 
one, stood a man in just such a costume as he wore, without the bat, 
apparently leading the chant, while occasionally a girl of youthful 
age, dressed In flowing white, would pass from altar-fire to altar-fire 
and drop Into the fire from the metal prongs she used, a piece of black 
char cod. The word came instantly; lie need never hesitate for the 
right word, he found. She took these pieces of charcoal from a bright 
brass or gold vessel hammered or decorated metal agam the right 
description came from within a and said a few words which Rollins 
could not hear. 

His entrance Into the temple did not surprise any of those present, 
and with an urge that came from the Inner consciousness, he slowly 
walked to the vacant altar pkce and, taking off his hat, faced those 
on the benches before him and began to chant in this strange tongue : 

"Deus, In adjuto , . . rlum meum Intend . . . de. Domine 
... ad adjuvandum me festlna. Gloria . . . Patri, . . . et 
Filio ... et ... Spiritu sancto. Slcut erat in princxpio, 
. . . et nunc, et sem . . . pre, et in saecula, saeculorum . . . 
A ... MEN . . . Al !e lu-ja." 

As he chanted he marveled at the beauty of the cadence, the main- 
tained antiphon, the unison of diction and the perfect melodic phras- 
ing. He listened to Ms own voice with Interest, and now began to 


wonder why he persistently asked, how is this? and why? Was tMs 
not his custom, his usual life? And while the outer man's mind 
wanted to cry no } no! the inner voice said, be patient s calm! 

The service being finislied s all arose and slowly filed from the temple 
after making some salutation to the altar-fire. Not wishing to speak 
to the other three men who remained in the stations at the altars, he 
stepped down from the platform and slowly left the building without 
being approached by any one of the others when they prepared to 
walk or to ride their horses. 

Returning to the great door of the chateau, he saw no means of 
signalling for entrance and was about to question his mind in this 
regard when the doors began to open and he found his servant greet- 
ing him again with the same polite bow. Entering the hall he faced 
its rear for the first time and saw that it led to other rooms and to 
an old stone stairway. 

Motioning the servant to come with him into the large chamber 
with the open fireplace, he was pleased to see that the servant seemed 
to anticipate his desire and was even now preparing to open those 
two heavy doors in the center of the carved doorway. 

Suddenly the doors opened wide and as Rollins was about to step 
lightly across the threshold into what he thought would be solitude 
with an opportunity to question the servant, he found himself facing 
a throng of men and women in gay costume who lifted high their 
voices in great exclamations of some kind. One by one the men ap- 
proached him and shook Ms hand, kissed him on both cheeks and 
otherwise indicated their greetings. The women bowed with courtly 
bows and made many dainty, softly spoken wishes in French to him, 
not one of which he could completely realize. 

Approaching the center of tie room he saw that the great carved 
table was covered with woven linens and embroidered satins, all in 
white. Silver and gold dishes were placed as for a banquet There 
was fruit and, at each place, some flowers. Large silver goblets were 
set at various parts of the table and there were other articles which 
seemed familiar, but likewise nameless at just this time. 

Almost automatically he walked to the end of the table and took 
a place before a large chair. The others stepped to their places about 
the table and stood waiting. He made a motion for all to be seated 
and in the most matter-of-fact manner sat down in his chair with a 
sigh. He must not stop to think; he was being scnitinlzed. They were 
waiting for him to do something, but what? His mind was sluggish; 
again and again in the silence of their waiting, he tried to reason, but 
reason was inhibited. His thinking ability seemed paralyzed. Why 


couldn't he think this thing all out? Why were so many here and 
why were they waiting for him? He must . . . but the answer came 
now, as he paused, and rising In his place he raised both arms and 
fairly shouted with excitement: 

"A bras ouverts suaviter en modo!" 

And along In unison, each arose and lifting their right Bands 
high and with surprise on their faces too evident to be concealed 
or mistaken by Rollins they cried: 

"Pax vobisoim!" 

Seated again, many fell into conversation while Rollins simply 
waited for developments. There was mental stupor that permitted 
him simply to realize and act automatically as the Inspiration came. 
He was an actor In an unknown play that was so very jarmlmr. 

Many servants now waited upon them. Great dishes of vegetables 
were served and then, at just the right moment, two men servants 
carried In a large wooden platter containing a huge lamb* roasted and 
steaming hot, decorated with greens and spices. Its aroma was allur- 
ing to the senses and Its picruresqiieness suggested a great feast In 

The roast was set before Rollins and a servant handed him a great 
knife, an ungainly thing of iron or steel, with sharp edge, and with 
It a one-prong fork. He cut and carved with more understanding 
and success than he had expected and hurriedly finished the last plate 
that the servants passed to him. An Idea came to him. He would 
hurry through the banquet and through dexterous means secure some 
information from one of the servants as to what this all meant and 
who be was. 

Sitting down again to eat, for Be had had to stand to carve so large 
a roast, he found the servant ready to hand him the plate filled with 
meat and vegetables. Looking for knife and fork, he saw none; and 
glancing around saw that all were using their fingers to pick apart 
the meat and vegetables and to pass the food to their mouths. He was 
handed a very large serviette or cloth which he saw others were using 
to dry or dean their fingers after every few minutes, and, with no 
further analysis, he, too, ate in this manner. 

After an hour of eating to an extent that seemed almost animal- 
like In Its persistence, wine was poured from large silver and porce- 
lain vessels Into the golden goblets. With the wine a broken cake 
was served, and fruit. 

As another hour passed and the sun turned into a beautiful gold 
and sent its beams across the table to tinge the heightened color of 
the faces of the guests, one by one they began to rise, and with 


unsteady hand to hold aloft a goblet of wine, and to make toasts 
in uncertain words. The toasts were directed to him Rollins! To 

each in turn he nodded appreciation, but each toast simply added 
to his determination to hold a very serious interview with some one, 

The servants were now bringing in small silver dishes containing 
water and placing them before each guest. Each in turn dipped the 
soiled and greasy hands into the water and washed them. Then 
drying their hands upon the large serviettes in their laps, they passed 
them on to the servants and arose from the table. In a few minutes 
all were standing again and the servants were hurriedly removing 
all the dishes. A small doorway or opening in one part of the wall 
adjoining the dish-closet served as a means for the passage of the 
dishes out of the room. The large table was now being moved farther 
from the great fireplace and over at one part of the room a servant 
was lighting a number of candles in silver candlesticks. He was 
placing them in parts of the room. More logs were placed upon 
the fire something was being prepared for and much interest was 
being shown by the men in the preparations, for they were directing 
the servants. 

Another servant entered the room and motioned to some of the 
ladies that something was prepared outside and they smiled and with 
great expectancy left the room through the great doorway. Now 
another servant entered, who carried in his arms a number of cages, 
in some of which were large black birds with strong curved bills 
and sharp daws, and in others there were what seemed to be small 
white pigeons. 

The men gathered around these cages, selecting some of them 
with great enthusiasm. Each seemed to want some particular black 
bird, and the birds were examined as analytically as one would 
examine a well-bred horse. Rollins stood motionless in the corner of 
the room and watched this proceeding as though he had seen it many 
times before but still knew not the mystery of it. 

Finally the men closed all doors and saw that the windows were 
well screened, and then released the white birds which proved to be 
wild pigeons. They flew to the top of the room and tried to find 
resting places on the beams of the ceiling, fully sixty feet above the 
floor and where it was almost too dark to see them. They were 
crying and making a horrified sound, when the cages were opened 
one by one and the legs of each black bird were marked for identi- 
fication. Then, simultaneously, all the black birds were released from 
the hands of the men and they flew wildly toward the ceiling. 


The scene then became distressing, cruel, terrible. The black birds 

seized the white pigeons and dosed their awful bills around the necks 
of the little creatures. They fought, they cried; the men cheered. 
It was a battle royal between each pigeon and each black bird, with 
the pigeon hopelessly beaten. The black birds would drop down, soar 
down, to the men, with their prey in their bIHs dripping with blood, 
the gory spots on the white feathers standing out like blotches on the 
shield of man's honor. 

Rollins could not stand it Whether the strong wine the men 
drank, or the custom of the times or both- was responsible for such 
a^cniel pastime, he could not witness It and hold back the disdain, the 
disgust that was about to overwhelm him and make him stop the 
whole proceedings. But he must not do that. He was only a witness. 
He ^ would not dare to Interfere. But he could leave. Ah! the oppor- 
tunity to speak to the servant was at hand. He walked rapidly to- 
ward ^the door; as he did so a big black bird passed before his face 
with ^ its prey, and the dripping blood fell on his forehead and down 
to his hand. The blood of Innocence! The cries of anguish! The 
sport of cruel hearts. Man's lowest Instincts freely expressing! What 
a scene, what a shame! He would have none of It! He pushed open 
the door and stepped out Into the hail and dosed the doors behind 
him. As he did so there rang out a heart-rending, piercing scream 
as from some soul in torture, while the men jeered and laughed, and 
other weak cries told of the last throbs of life In some white breast. 
That last cry the cry of the lost life, the conquered existence, the 
torn body, the bleeding wound the similarity. The symbol! The 
dove of peace! Slain! By man's cruel thinking, by man's earthly 
ways. The words came back again: 

"On that cross the body of man are many things crucified!" 
Rollins rushed to the stairway. There was no servant in sight. In 
a room nearby he could hear the laughs and remarks of the women, 
the ladies, who, In all compliance, left the men to enjoy their mur- 
derous habits and lust for blood. Was that womanhood? Had women 
not Improved since the days of that? Where was the boasted modern 
refinement, culture, and . . . ? But this was not modern times. The 
answer was distinct. This was the day . . . 

Up the stairs he rushed and into the first open doorway. It was 
a bed-chamber. The bed, high from the floor, approached by two 
steps, was heavily and beautifully canopied. He dosed the door be- 
hind him and dropped across It the Iron bar. Then, In weariness and 
disgust, he flung himself upon the feathered bed, unmindful of the 


satins and laces, and burled his head In Ms hands and cried, sobbed, 
as Ms whole body shook with emotion: 

"God, good God, what a world and what a time! Have all men 
forgotten their greatest gift, trie chivalry of manhood, the protecting 
power of their might over trie weaker? Can men come from chanting 
of Thy goodness and enter into the destruction of the littlest beings? 
Then make me weak, God, make me weak, that I may not hurt, or 
see hurt or permit the destruction of the smallest flower of the fields 
or the most minute animal of Thy world. Make me humble, make 
me simple, make me kind good loving all and never too strong 
lest I destroy that which Thou hast made!" 

And as he prayed, his prayer was answered, for he felt the weak- 
ness come, and with It a simpleness of heart and mind, until, like the 
tired-out baby, sobbing its need for the resting arms of mother, he 
lay on his side, and slept. 

V V V 


A peculiar metallic noise awakened the consciousness of Rollins, 
and he gradually realized that there was some disturbance at the door 
of the room in which he slept. He rose from the bed in a dazed state 
of mind and, finding the room very dark, walked slowly about until 
he reached the iron door. As he neared it he saw that it became 
illuminated with a faint light that emanated from his body in all 
directions; and by its light he was able to find and lift the bar that 
held the door dosed. 

As the door opened the same servant that had greeted him earlier 
in the day bowed again and said in French, softly and kindly: 

"I was concerned, my lord, for it is late and you slept without 
the light and the guests have departed without bidding adieu." 

"Come in and sit with me for I would ask you some questions/* 
The words came easily, in French, and with a solicitation that seemed 
to surprise the servant who was more accustomed to brief commands. 
He entered slowly and Rollins closed the door. The servant lighted 
two candles which stood on an old carved dressing-table, over which 
hung a large piece of highly polished silver, evidently used as a 

Seated opposite each other in heavily cushioned chairs, Rollins 
looked at the servant, thought for a moment or two before he spoke. 
How should he begin his question without surprising the man or 
arousing his suspicions? It was quite evident to the servant and to 
all who were there that day, that Rollins belonged there. Perhaps they 
thought it was his home? The term "my lord' 1 used by the servant 
suggested that Rollins might even be the master of the household. If 
this was true, how could he consistently ask the questions which were 
uppermost in his mind? He must continue to act the part of the 
master of the castle until he had all the information he could secure 
in a diplomatic manner. And then why then, what? Could he leave 
this place? How came he here? Again he tried to reason it out, and 
again he found his mind refusing to place facts in their proper and 
logical order for mental review. Again he found that deep in his 
consciousness, as though recalling a dream, he had a vague recollec- 


tion that lie was an American of the twentieth century but upper- 
most in his consciousness was the dominating realization that he was 
here In this place at this time, and that he was equally at home in 
the light environment. 

Yes, diplomacy must be used and some excuse must be given for 
asking the questions which would sound strange to the servant. Sud- 
denly an idea came. He revolved it, tested it, and it seemed to be 
just the method to use. He would try it. 

"My man, I have something important to tell you. You see, I 
am not like myself today. I am strange." He waited to see how 
the servant would understand that. He noted with satisfaction that 
the man opposite him looked quizzically at him and then nodded 
in agreement. 

"I had an accident yesterday and when I awoke this morning rny 
mind seemed to be dazed and I could not recall where I was and now 
I find I am puzzled as to who I am. I am sure I am not mistaken 
about some tilings, but I want to check the facts and be very sure 
before I talk with anyone of our that is any of my friends. Now, 
tell me first of all or rather, suppose you get the pen and ink and 
some paper, and we will write down the facts. Go!" 

Pen and ink and paper! The words were in French, as was all 
that he had said to the servant, but Rollins wondered if he knew 
what was meant by such words in these days. But the servant was 
off to some other room he must have understood. After a few 
minutes he returned bearing a tray upon which Rollins saw a beau- 
tifully carved vessel which he instantly knew must be an ink-well, 
a long feather or quill, and a roll of skin, as it seemed, and another 
silver vessel with perforated top. The servant placed the tray in his 
lap and moved dose to Rollins so that their knees touched. Then 
he shoved the tray forward so that it rested on the laps of both. 
Rollins looked at the roll of skin first. It was nearly twelve inches 
square and wrinkled in places, with a shiny, almost greasy surface. 
He laid it down and at once the servant picked it up, flattened it 
out and sprinkled from the tall silver vessel some white powder on 
the surface of the skin and with the palm of his left hand rubbed 
the powder into its surface, and then blew off the surplus. Then he 
picked up the quill and dipped it into the smaller vessel and when 
he extracted it, it was covered with a thick, gummy, black substance. 
He handed the quill to Rollins and held the skin flat for him to 
write. Rollins looked at the end of the quill and said: "What is 
that on the quill?" 


"The carbon, my lord, 'tis very thick, but the parchment requires 
It and the gum will hold the carbon there very well." 

Rollins realized that this form of ink was different from what he 
seemed to recall, but it was too trivial a point to look into now. 
Then he passed the quill back to the servant and said: 

"I want you to write the answers to the questions. I will hold 
the the parchment. My hand is too nervous to write today." 

Arranging matters in this way, Rollins began his questioning again: 
"Now, then, tell me what is my name? What? Guiilaume, Viscount 
of Anduze? Write It! That's right! Now, eh Why am I Viscount 
of Anduze? How came It to be so? Oh, so I am the son of Count 
Raymond, Lord of Anduze, Lord of Rodez and Mlllau and Viscount 
of Toulouse! Write It all down, carefully. 

"And where is my father? Indeed! Write that down, too be 
sure you put It completely 'adviser In Roman law at Charlemagne's 
School of the Palace!' 

"Where Is my mother? Oh I did not know but write It! 'Buried 
In the left nave of the Cathedral of St. Sernin in Toulouse/ 

"I wish now that you would write down there my exact date of 
birth. That's right. Now tell me, what was I doing this morning at 
the little Temple or Church at the crossways?" 

"Why, my lord, you were performing your usual festive duty this 
day. This, you know, Is the day of the Compitalia, the annual festival 
held each year at this time, in honor of the Lares, the deities of the 
crossroads. You went, as was your duty as master of this villa, to 
the comfita, the chapel of the Lares, the ancient Roman divinities, 
situated on the crossroads, but now It Is a temple of God. There are 
four altars there with four Sacred Fires, representing the four ad- 
joining villas, an altar and a sacred fire for each castle and hearth of 
the four villas. The master of each conducts the sacred festival while 
the subjects of the estate or province, represented by their principal 
chiefs, worship there. So today, the first of January, you conducted 
the chanting for the representatives of your subjects as the other 
masters did for their subjects. For years your father performed this 
rite, and now, for the past three years, It has fallen to your lot. 
That is all." 

"Write it all down!" commanded Rollins and while the servant 
wrote he leaned back in Ms chair, and closed Ms eyes to review 
again the morning festival. 

"Who was the young girl who attended the fire?" he started again. 

"She was the Vestal Virgin, whose sole duty Is to keep the sacred 
fire always burning in the chapel It Is a memorial of the ceremony 


at Rome when the Vestal Virgins kept burning day and night the 
sacred fire a community fire from which others might obtain hot 
coals for their home fires. It is now a symbol of community interest 
and, therefore, sacred trust and neighborly love. She is a virgin and 
must remain obedient to her duty as a virgin until of legal age. She 
lives not far away in the castle of your cousin who went to battle 
with the legions of the legates of the Roman Church, and and 
he . . ." 

"He never came back I can quite understand that Go on!" said 
Rollins, as memory served him in some peculiar way. 

"No, he never came back and no one ever heard of his end. But 
Ms young bride was cared for by you just ..." 

"Just as though she were my own wife. I understand that, too. 
My cousin's wife!'* How strange and yet how familiar it seemed. 

"And now tell me just one more fact and be sure to write down 
the answer. What was the cause, the reason for this great celebration 
in the the great hall, downstairs this morning?" 

Surprised, the servant looked squarely into the eyes of the master 
before him. "Why, that feast, followed by the sport of Falconry, was 
at your command, your own request, planned yesterday you recall 
yesterday? You asked for the lords and ladies, the nobility of these 
provinces, and you sent forth your herald to request their presence, 
for today is your birthday. Surely you have not forgotten to at. The 
day you were to become Lord of Bellcastle of this villa and the 
Province of Aveyron." 

"Put that down there s my man, and I guess that is all. No, stop a 
moment. Tell me this. Am I married and if so, where is my wife?" 

ft No, my lord, with the care of Lady Rollins, your cousin's wife, 
you have devoted yourself exclusively to her well-being but you are 
still young, and there is yet time to marry and carry forward the 
blood and name of your ancestors who have always been noble men." 

Having written this, the servant arose and left the parchment on 
the dresser, taking away with him, the materials on the tray. 

Rollins closed the door tightly, folded the parchment in his hands 
and clasping them, threw himself back into the chair, closed his eyes 
and began to review the facts just received. There was much in the 
story that was just beyond the spoken words. This, the untold story, 
he must now comprehend some way. 

For an hour Rollins sat in the chair, thinking and dreaming. Grad- 
ually a sense of warmth came over him while a changing condition 


in the brain and nervous system indicated that he was modifying 
his consciousness in some manner. This first definite sensation was 
that there was a light on his eyes, then a weariness in his limbs 
with an accompanying desire to move them into a different position. 
In making this change Ms feet fell to the floor with a jarring of the 
body that caused him to open his eyes. His feet had slipped from 
the stool. There was an electric light at the side of his head. His 
reading lamp! The fire in the fireplace! He was in another room 
the study at home? He was the modern, American Rollins again 
at home! 

Rising from the chair he noted that he still held in his hands the 
Diary. That key to the yesterdays! He walked about the room with 
the book in Ms hands behind him, nervously pacing and thinking, 
muttering such unconscious comments as seemed to come from a mind 
still in a maze. And as he reviewed his last experience he came to the 
last incident the servant writing the answers on the parchment* 
which he had determined to preserve. Oh! if it were only possible to 
preserve so concrete and material a thing from the past and have it 
now in the present! To actualize a reality; to materialize into the 
gross of the present the ethereal fabrication of a dream. The ancient 
alchemists claimed to be able to do this; and Rollins knew that their 
present-day successors, the modern brotherhood of Rosicracians, exist 
today with their Lodges of active members, scientists and adepts lo- 
cated in many cities, pursuing their studies in secret and claiming 
to know the laws whereby this is done. They alone would be able to 
explain all that Rollins had experienced within the past twenty-four 
hours, and while he did not know just how to reach them, still, 
thought Rollins, now that he realized his mission, he would not rest 
until he had located one who would introduce him to their nearest 

Again he sat down in the easy dhair and almost mechanically and 
unconsciously opened the Diary. He had not turned more than three 
or four pages when he was startled to see some told, black writing 
covering the two open pages before him. Instantly he knew. Here 
were the written answers of the servant and the servant's strange 

As each answer was analyzed the whole conversation came back to 
him. He was again in the old bed-chamber of the castle. Then came 
the first written answer that had not been spoken. 

"Birthdate January 1, 896." 

Rereading the statement several times, he passed to the last nota- 
tion, the last written answer but one. 


y, your twenty-first birthday, you became Lord of Bellcastle 
and heir to the estates of Rollins." 

Born in 896. Twenty-one today! That means that today the 
today of that experience, the today of my birthday celebration in 
that old provincial villa was the year 917! 

January 1st, 917! 

Rollins fairly shouted it. He jumped to his feet. On that day I 
became Lord Rollins. Today I am William Rollins. My name then, 
that day was Guillaurne William. What a remarkable coincidence! 
Unmarried, caring for my mother, my father caring for his cousin's 
wife. The name Raymond . . . and just ds in recent years, the name 
RoEins. What of the mark after the name Raymond on the painting? 
I have seen nothing of that, the mystery which started this piercing of 
the Veil. 

Again lie glanced at the written pages before him. The page was 
signed, "Jordain, Secretaire to the House of Raymond IV.'* Raymond 
IV. The Fourth! Ah! The mark after the name on the painting 
was V! Raymond V the fifth of that name. The mystery was 

But above the signature of the secretary stood boldly forth the 
last statement to the last answer: 'There is yet time to marry and 
carry forward the blood. mi& name of your noble ancestors." 

Was that a command? It seemed to be a challenge of nature, a 
decree of nature and Soul all depended upon it. It was a decree, 
and it should be fulfilled, before it was too late. 

And then a knock at the door. It startled Rollins again. It 
seemed so like the banging on the iron door of the bed-chamber in 
the old villa. With nerves highly excited and the mind in a stressed 
attitude, little was needed to startle him now. 

Opening the door quickly, he found his mother, smiling and 
bowing slightly. 

"William, my boy, have you forgotten that we were to go out 
today? You have been in here so long! Ruth has called and will 
accompany us to dinner and you know she does so enjoy these occa- 
sional very few opportunities to be in your company. Please do 
not keep us waiting long or we may not be able to find chairs at 
any table in the 'Chateau Bellcastle' downtown. You know they 
have such wonderful holiday dinners with the most alluring music, 
like the songs of the old Troubadours of Languedoc. Come where 
have you been? In your dreams again? You look so tired or nervous 
and so surprised at what I say. What has it been now? Have you 


solved your problem about the rebirth of the body and the reincar- 
nation of the Soul?" 

"Yes, little Mother, I have/' he said as he put his arm about her 
waist and accompanied her out into the hall, to where Ruth was 
sitting in the golden sunlight of the bay window. "I have just found 
that it takes two to bring about the perfect rebirth of body and soul 
and I was just going back over the past over the yesterdays 
back, back to the year 917! In fact, I was thinking of the yesterdays 
between today and January 1st, 917." 

tr Why, William/' she replied, in a smiling, teasing mood. "That 
would have made a thousand years of yesterdays!" 

V V V 




The Order Is primarily a Humanitarian Movement, making for 
greater Health, Happiness, and Peace in the earthly lives of all 
Mankind. Note particularly that we say in the earthly lives of men, 
for we have naught to do with any doctrine devoted to the interests 
of individuals living in an unknown future state. The Work of 
Rosicmcians is to be done here and now; not that we have neither 
hope nor expectation of another life after this, but we know that the 
happiness of the future depends upon what we do today for others 
as well as for ourselves. 

Secondly, our purposes are to enable men and women to live dean, 
normal, natural fives, as Nature intended, enjoying all the privileges 
of Nature, and all benefits and gifts equally with ail of Mankind ; and 
to be free from the shackles of superstition, the limits of ignorance, 
and the suffering of avoidable karma. 

The Work of the Order using the word Work in an official 
sense consists of teaching, studying, and testing such Laws of God 
and Nature as make our members Masters in the Holy Temple (the 
physical body), and Workers in the Divine Laboratory (Nature's 
domains). This is to enable the Fratres and Sorores to render more 
efficient help to those who do not know, and who need or require 
help and assistance. 

Therefore, the Order is a School, a College, a Fraternity, with a 
laboratory and the Members as students and Workers. The graduates 
are unselfish servants of God to Mankind, efficiently educated, trained 
and experienced, attuned with the mighty forces of the Cosmic or 
Divine Mind, and Masters of Matter, space, and time. This makes 
them essentially Mystics, Adepts, and Magi creators of their own 

There are no other benefits or rights. All Members are ple4ged to 
give unselfish Service, without other hopes or expectation of remunera- 
tion than to evolve the Self and prepare it for a greater Work. 


For those who are unable to attend a local temple or lodge because 

of personal reasons or because of the fact that there might not be any 
In their immediate community, the Sanctum membership offers a per- 
sonal, home study means. Instructions are sent in weekly monographs 
and lessons, especially prepared, and contain a summary of the Rosi- 
crucian principles with a wealth of personal experiments, exercises, 
and tests, such as will make each member highly proficient in the at- 
tainment of certain degrees of mastership. The monographs are 
under the direction of the Imperator's staff. These correspondence les- 
sons and lectures compose three preliminary degrees, not primary, which 
are then followed by the higher instructions or temple work. 

Each grade has its own initiation ritual to be performed by the 
member at his home in his own sanctum. Such rituals are not the 
elaborate rituals used in the temple lodges, but are of practical benefit 
to the student. 

For further information regarding the fascinating story of the 
Roskracians and their offer to all seekers, send for the free book 
The Mastery of Life. Address your request for this book to: 



V V V 

V V V 

The ILosicrwian Library 

Consists of a number of unique boob which are described 
in the following pages, and which may be 

purchased from the 



? ? 7 





THIS volume contains the first complete, authentic history of the 
Rosicracian Order from ancient times to the present day. The his- 
tory is divided into two sections, dealing with the traditional facts 
and the established historical facts, and is replete with interesting 
stories of romance, mystery, and alluring incidents. 

This book is a valuable one, since it is a constant reference and 
guidebook. Questions that arise in your mind regarding many mys- 
tical and occult subjects are answered in this volume. 

For many centuries the strange, mysterious records of the Rosi- 
cracians were dosed against any eyes but those of the high initiates. 
Even editors of great encyclopedias were unable to secure the fascinat- 
ing facts of the Rosicmcian activities in aU parts of the world. Now 
the whole story is outlined and it reads like a story from the land of 
the "Arabian Nights.'* 

The book also outlines the answers to scores of questions dealing 
with the history, work, teachings, benefits, and purposes of the Rosi- 
cmcian fraternity. It is printed on fine paper, bound in silk doth, 
and stamped in gold. Price, postage prepaid, S2.85 (l/-/4 sterling). 





THIS volume contains such principles of practical Roskracian teach- 
ings as are applicable to the solution of everyday problems of life in 
business and in the affairs of the home. It deals exhaustively with the 
prevention of ill-health, the airing of many of the common ailments, 
and the attainment of peace and happiness, as well as the building up 
of the affairs of life that deal with financial conditions. The book is 
filled with hundreds of practical points dealing especially with the 
problems of the average businessman or person in business employ. It 
points out the wrong and right way for the use of metaphysical and 
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moting business propositions, starting and bringing into realization 
new plans and ideals, and the attainment of the highest ambitions in 

Rosicmdan Principles for the Home and Business is not theoreti- 
cal but strictly practical. It is now in its ninth edition, having had a wide 

circulation and universal endorsement not only among members of the 
organization, who have voluntarily stated that they have greatly 
improved their lives through the application of its suggestions, but 
among thousands of persons outside of the organization. It has also 
been endorsed by business organizations and business authorities. 

The book is of standard size, well printed, bound in silk cloth, 

and stamped in gold. Price, postage prepaid, $2.75 (19/8 sterling). 



THIS Is the book that thousands have been waiting for the real 
Jesus revealed at last! It was in preparation for a number of years 

and required a visit to Palestine and Egypt to secure a verification 
of the strange facts contained in the ancient Rosicrucian and Essene 

It is a full account of the birth, youth, early manhood, and later 
periods of Jesus* life, containing the story of His activities in the times 
not mentioned in the Gospel accounts. The facts relating to the im- 
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symbols, fully explained, original photographs, and an unusual por- 
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There are over three hundred pages with seventeen large chapters, 

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This indexed book will inspire, instruct, and guide every student of 
mysticism and religion. It is one of the most talked-about books ever 
written on the subject. Read it and be prepared for the discussions 

of it that you will hear among men and women of learning. 

Sent by mail, postpaid, for $2.75 (19/8 sterling). 




DOES the Bible actually contain the unadulterated words of Jesus 
the Christ? Do you know that from 325 A.D. until 1870 A.D., 
twenty ecclesiastical or church council meetings were held, in which 
man alone decided upon the context of the Bible? Self-appointed 
judges in the four Lateran Councils expurgated and changed the 
sacred writings to please themselves. The Great Master's personal 
doctrines, of the utmost, vital importance to every man and woman, 
were buried in unexplained passages and parables. The Secret Doc- 
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Startling, fascinating, this book should be in every thinker's hands. 
It is beautifully bound, illustrated, of large size, and the price, in- 
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THIS is one of the rarest Oriental mystery books known. It was 
translated by special permission of the Grand Lama and Disciples 
of the Sacred College in the Grand Temple in Tibet 

Here is a book that was written two thousand years ago, but was 
hidden in manuscript form from the eyes of the world and given 
only to the initiates of the temples in Tibet to study privately. 

Out of the mystery of the past comes this antique book containing 
the rarest writings and teachings known to man with the exception 
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in this book. The book is divided into many parts, each part con- 
taining a large number of sections or divisions and chapters. 

The book deals with man's passions, desires, weaknesses, sins, 
strengths, fortitudes, ambitions, and hopes. All are treated in detail 
with illuminating simplicity. The book is beautifully printed and 
bound with stiff cover, and contains also the strange mystic story of 
the expedition into Tibet to secure this marvelous manuscript. 

Price, per copy, postage prepaid, only $1,75 (12/6 sterling). 





THIS book is entirely different from any other book ever issued in 

America, dealing with the secret periods in the life of each man and 

woman wherein the Cosmic forces affect our daily affairs. 

The book reveals how we may take advantage of certain periods 
to bring success, happiness, health, and prosperity into our lives, and 
it likewise points out those periods which are not favorable for many 
of the things we try to accomplish. It does not deal with astrology 
or any system of fortuneteUing, but presents a system long used by the 
Master Mystics in Oriental knds and which is strictly scientific and 
demonstrable. One reading of the book with its charts and tables 
will enable the reader to see the course of his life at a glance. It 
helps everyone to eliminate "chance" and "luck," to cast aside "fate," 
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Here is a book you will use weekly to guide your affairs through- 
out the years. There is no magic in its system, but it opens a vista 
of the cydes of the life of each being in a remarkable manner. 

Well-printed, bound in silk doth, and stamped in gold to match 
other volumes of the Rosicracian Library. Price, postage prepaid, 
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THIS practical book contains not only extracts from the Con- 
stitution of the Roskracian Order, but a complete outline and ex- 
planation of all the customs, habits, and terminology of the Rosicru- 
cians, with diagrams and explanations of the symbols used in the 
teachings, an outline of the subjects taught, a dictionary of the terms, 
a complete presentation of the principles of Cosmic Consciousness, 
and biographical sketches of important personalities connected with the 
work. There are also special articles on the Great White Lodge and 
its existence, how to attain psychic illumination, the Rosicrucian Code 
of Life with thirty laws and regulations, and a number of portraits 
of prominent mystics including Master K. H., the Illustrious. 

The technical matter contained in the text and in the hundred or 
more diagrams makes this book a real encyclopedia of Rosicrucian ex- 
planations, aside from its dictionary of Rosicrucian terms. 

The Roskrucmn Manual is of large size, well printed, beautifully 
bound in red silk doth, and stamped in gold. The book has been en- 
larged and improved in many ways since its first edition. 

Price, postage prepaid, $2.85 (l/-/4 sterling). 



Compiled bj MANY OHLAR 
Austrian Philosopher and Mystic 


THE first compilation of the famous prayers of the renowned 
mystics and adepts of all ages. 

The book, Mystics at Prayer, explains in simple language the 
reason for prayer, how to pray s and the Cosmic laws involved. You 
come to learn the real efficacy of prayer and its full beauty dawns 
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rightful heritage. It is the direct means of man's communion with the 
infinite force of divinity. 

Mystics at Prayer is well bound, printed on art paper in two colors, 
with, deckle-edged pages, sent anywhere, postpaid, $1.55 (11/1 ster- 





WHAT were the Sacred Traditions said to have been revealed to 
Moses and never spoken by the ancient Hebrews? What were the 
forces of nature discovered by the Egyptian priesthood and embodied 
in strange symbols symbols which became the everliving knowledge 
which built King Solomon's Temple, and which found their way into 
the secret teachings of every century? 

Regardless of the changing consciousness of man, certain signs and 
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Here is a book that also explains the origin of the various forms 
of the cross, the meanings of which are often misunderstood. It 
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Price, postage prepaid, $1.45 (10/4 sterling). 



A Cosmic Conception 



REINCARNATION! The world's most disputed doctrine. The belief 
in reincarnation has had millions of intelligent, learned, and tolerant 
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of students, mystics, and thinkers have always been the words: "Why 
Are We Here?" Reincarnation has been criticized by some as con- 
flicting with sacred literature and as being without verification. This 
book reveals, however, in an intelligent manner the many facts to 
support reincarnation. Quotations from eminent authorities, and from 
Biblical and Sacred works substantiate reincarnation. This volume 
PROVES reincarnation. It places it high above mere speculation. 
This book is without exaggeration the most complete, inspiring, en- 
lightening book ever written on this subject. It is not a fiction story 
but a step-by-step revelation of profound mystical laws. Look at 
some of the thought-provoking, intriguing subjects: 

The Cosmic Conception; The Personality of the Soul; Does Per- 
sonality Survive Transition?; Heredity and Inheritance; Karma, and 
Personal Involution; Religious and l&lbllcal Viewpoints; Christian 
References; Between Incarnations; Souls of Animals and the ff Un- 
born*' ; Recollections of the Past. 

The book contains over three hundred pages. Beautifully printed, 
neatly bound, stamped in gold, it will be a valuable asset to your 
library. Economically priced at only $2.85 (l/-/4 sterling) per 

copy, postage prepaid. 




_ BENEATH the rolling, restless seas He the mysteries of forgotten 
civilizations. Swept by the tides, half -buried in the sands, worn away 
by terrific pressure, are the remnants of a culture little known to our 
age of today. Where the mighty Pacific now rolls in a majestic 
sweep of thousands of miles, there was once a vast continent. This 
land was known as Lemuria, and its people as Lemurians, 

We pride ourselves upon the inventions, conveniences, and de- 
velopments of today. We call them modern, but these ancient and 
long-forgotten people excelled us. Things we speak of as future pos- 
sibilities, they knew as everyday realities. Science has gradually 
pieced together the evidences of this lost race, and in this book you 
will find the most amazing, enthralling revelations you have ever read. 
How these people came to be swept from the face of the earth, except 
for survivors who have living descendants today, is explained. Illus- 
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usual book. 

If you are a lover of mystery, of the unknown, the weird read 
this book Remember, however, this book is not fiction, but based on 
facts, the result of extensive research. Does civilization reach a certain 
height and then retrograde? Are the culture and progress of man- 
kind in cycles, reaching certain peaks, and then returning to start 
over again? These questions and many more are answered in this 
intriguing volume. Read of the living descendants of these people, 
whose expansive nation now lies at the bottom of the Pacific. In the 
minds of these descendants is the knowledge of the principles which 
in bygone centuries made their forebears builders of an astounding 

The book, Lemuria The Lost Continent of the Pacific, is beauti- 
fully bound, well printed, and contains many illustrations. It Is 
economically priced at $2.50 (17/10 sterling), postpaid. 


The "Way of Cosmic Preparation 


A GUIDE to Inner unfoldment! A modernly expressed explanation 
for attaining the state of Cosmic Consciousness. To those who have 
felt the throb of a vita! power within, and whose inner vision has 
at times glimpsed infinite peace and happiness, this book is offered. 
It converts the intangible whispers of self into forceful actions that 
bring real joys and accomplishments in life. It is a masterful work 
on psychic unfoldment. 

It is well bound in doth. Secure this treasure for yourself. Eco- 
nomically priced, postage prepaid, at $2.25 (16/1 sterling). 




THE world's greatest mystery and first wonder is the Great Pyra- 
mid. It stands as a monument to the learning and achievements of 
the ancients. For centuries its secrets were closeted in stone now 
they stand revealed. 

Never before in a book priced within the reach of every reader 
have the history, vast wisdom, and prophecies of the Great Pyramid 
been given. You will be amazed at the Pyramid's scientific construc- 
tion and at the tremendous knowledge of its mysterious builders. 

Who built the Great Pyramid? Why were its builders inspired to 
reveal to posterity the events of the future? What is the path that the 
Great Pyramid indicates lies before mankind? Within the pages of 
this enlightening book there are the answers to many enthralling 
questions. It prophesied the World Wars and the great economic 
upheaval. Learn what it presages for the future. You must not de- 
prive yourself of this book. 

The book is well bound with a cloth cover, and contains all neces- 
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postage paid. 


The Sacred Book Withheld 


BY WHAT right has man been denied the words of the prophets? 
"Who dared expunge from the Holy Bible one of Its inspired messages? 
For centuries man has labored under the illusion that there have been 
preserved for him the collected books of the great teachers and disci- 
ples yet one has been withheld The Book of Jasher. 

Within the hallowed pages of the great Bible Itself are references 
to this lost book which have puzzled the devout and students for 
centuries. As If by Divine decree, the Bible appears to cry out to 
mankind that Its sanctity has been violated, Its truth veiled, for we 
find these two passages exclaiming: "Is not this written In the Book 
of Jasher?" Joshua 10:13; "Behold, It Is written In the Book of 
Jasher." 2 Samuel 1:18. 

Alcuin discovered this great book of the Bible written by Jasher. 
He translated It from the Hebrew In 800 A.D. Later It was sup- 
pressed and then rediscovered In 1829, and once again suppressed. 

But now we bring to you an actual photographic reproduction of 
this magnificent work, page for page, line for line, unexpurgated. 
This enlightening work, bound in original style, Is priced at only 
$2.75 (19/8 sterling) per copy, postage paid. 




The Technique of the Disciple is a book containing a modem 
description of the ancient esoteric path to spiritual illumination, trod 
by the masters and avatars of yore. It has long been said that Christ 
left, as a great heritage to members of His secret council, a private 
method for guidance in life, which method has been preserved until 
today In the secret, occult, mystery schools. 

Raymund Andrea, the author, reveals the method for attaining a 
greater life taught In these mystery schools, which perhaps parallels 
the secret Instructions of Christ to members of His council. The 
book Is enlightening, Inspiring, and splendidly written. It is hand- 
somely bound with a stiff board cover and the material of the cover 
Is woven of silk thread, and stamped in gold. Postage is paid on 
shipment to you. Priced at $2.25 (16/1 sterling) per copy. 



Thoughts That Enslave Minds 



TORTURED souls. Human beings, whose self -confidence and peace 
of mind have been torn to shreds by invisible darts the evil thoughts 
of others. Can envy, hate, and jealousy be projected through space 
from the mind of another? Do poisoned thoughts like mysterious 
rays reach through the ethereal realm to claim innocent victims? Will 
wishes and commands born in hate gather momentum and like an 
avalanche descend upon a helpless man or woman in a series of calami- 
ties? Must humanity remain at the mercy of evil influences created 
in the minds of the vicious? Millions each year are mentally poisoned 
are you safe from this scourge? Mental Poisoning is the title of 
a book written by Dr. H. Spencer Lewis, which fearlessly discloses 
this psychological problem. It is sensational in its revelations. Read it 
and be prepared. 

This neatly bound, well-printed book will be sent to you for the 
nominal price of only $1.95 (13/11 sterling). It has been econom- 
ically produced so it can be in the hands of thousands because of the 
benefit it will afford readers. 

Order yours today. Price includes postage. 


By M. W. KAPP, M.D. 


You need not continue to be bound by those glandular character- 
istics of your life which do not please you. These influences, through 
the findings of science and the mystical principles of nature, may be 
adjusted. The first essential is that of the old adage: "Know Your- 
self." Have revealed the facts about the endocrine glands know 
where they are located in your body and what mental and physical 
functions they control. The control of the glands can mean the control 
of your life. These facts, scientifically correct, with their mystical 
interpretation, are for the first time presented in simple, nontechnical 
language, in a book which everyone can enjoy and profit by reading. 

Mystics and metaphysicians have long recognized that certain in- 
fluences and powers of a Cosmic nature could be tapped; that a Di- 
vine energy could be drawn upon, which affects our creative ability, 

our personality, and our physical welfare. For centuries there has 
been speculation as to what area or what organs of the body contain 
this medium this contact between the Divine and the physical. Now 
it is known that certain of the glands are governors which speed up 
or slow down the influx of Cosmic energy into the body. What this 
process of Divine alchemy is and how it works Is fascinatingly ex- 
plained in this book of startling facts. 

Dr. M. W. Kapp, the author, during his lifetime was held in high 
esteem by the medical fraternity despite the fact that he also ex- 
pressed a deep insight into the mystical laws of life and their Influence 
on the physical functioning of the body. 


Dr. H. Spencer Lewis first Imperator of the Rosicrucian Order 
(AMORC), of North and South America, for its present cycle of 
activity, and author of many works on mysticism, philosophy, and 
metaphysics wrote an important Introduction to this book, in which 
he highly praised it and Its author. 

The book Is weU bound with a doth cover; price only $1.80 
(12/10 sterling) with postage paid. 




"MiND over matter" Is not a trite phrase. Your moods, your tem- 
perament, your very thoughts can and do affect digestion. Are you 
overweight or underweight? Appearances, even the scales, are not 
always reliable. Your age, your sex, the kind of work you do all 
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these Interesting facts, and how your digestion may be affected even 
hours after you have eaten. 

The author of this book, Dr. Stanley K. dark, was for several years 
staff physician at the Henry Ford Hospital in Detroit. He is a noted 
gastroenterologist (specialist In stomach and intestinal disorders) . He 
brings you his wealth of knowledge in this field, -plus his additional 
findings from his study of the effects of the mind upon digestion. 

What to Eat and When is compact, free from unnecessary techni- 
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postpaid to you, $2.00 (14/4 sterling). 




WHAT could be more essential than the discovery and analysis of 
self, the composite of that consciousness which constitutes one's whole 
being? This book of sound logic presents revealingly and in en- 
tirety the four phases of human living: The Mysteries, The Technique, 
The Pitfalls, and Attainment. 

Do you not, at times, entertain the question as to whether you are 
living your life to your best advantage? You may find an answer in 
some of the 23 chapters, presented under headings such as: Causality 
and Karma, The Lost Word, Death The Law of Change, Love and 
Desire, Nature of Dreams, Prediction, Mastership and Perfection. 
Consid'er "Love and Desire/* In much of ancient and modern litera- 
ture, as well as in the many and various preachments of the present- 
day 'world, LOVE is proclaimed as the solution to all human conflict. 
Do you understand truly the meaning of absolute love? Do you know 
that there are various laves and that some of the so-called loves are 
dangerous drives? 

Written authoritatively by Ralph M. Lewis, Imperator of the Rosi- 
cmcian Order (AMORC), the international jurisdiction of North, 
Central, and South America, British Commonwealth and Empire, 
France, Switzerland, and Africa, this volume of over 350 pages, 
carefully indexed, is of particular value as a text for teachers and 
students of metaphysics, including philosophy and psychology. Well- 
bound and attractive, it is purposely economically priced at $2.85 
(l/-/4 sterling) , postpaid, making it available to all sincere seekers. 



Or The Jewish Metaphysics of Remote Antiquity 
DR. ISEDOE. KALISCH, Translator 


AMONG the list of the hundred best books in the world, one might 
easily include this simple volume, revealing the greatest authentic 
study of the secret Kabala. For those averse to fantastic daims, this 
book is truly comprehensible for the wise student who does not care 
for magical mumbo-jumbo, it Is dynamic. 

The phantasies of those baffling speculations of other writers be- 
come unimportant when the practical student of mysticism reverently 

thumbs through these pages and catches the terse "and challenging 
statements. The woolgathering of many so-called authors of occultism 
is brought to nothing by this simple volume which makes a pattern 
for honest mystical common sense. 

The Sepker Yezhdh is one of the many books published by 
AMORC. It has 61 pages with both Hebrew and English texts, 
photolithographed from the 1877 original edition. For anyone in- 
terested in the best also, considered by some the most ancient 
in Hebrew mystical thought, this book will be a refreshing discovery. 
Students of the Kabala and readers of mysticism will recognize in it 
one of the two greatest source books for all occult thinking. 

The careful reader will be attracted to three characteristics of this 
edition of the Sepber Yezirah: 

(1) A dear English translation of a most ancient 
work, almost unavailable up to the present. 

(2) A simple expose of fundamental aspects of the 
ancient Kabala without superstitious interpretations. 

(3) An inexpensive and convenient translation of the 
world's oldest philosophical writing in Hebrew. 

Attractive and convenient, paper-bound edition. Price: $1.25 
(8/11 sterling),, postpaid. 



Wondrous Tales of the Ancient Egyptians 



OVER fifty centuries ago in the land of the Nile, man gained his 
first insight into spiritual values long before any of the living religions 
or great philosophies began, these truths were incorporated in simple 
tales. Fathers related them to their sons. Sages told their disciples. 

In these stories you are not reading a modern historian's version of 
ancient times. No one speaks for these sages. They speak for them- 
selves you will read words written 2000 years before Christ! As you 
read, the great truths between the lines concerning the simple characters 
and incidents will stand revealed. They are as effective today as when 
they were first inscribed in stone or written upon papyrus scrolls by 
the scribes. 

Here we have authentic works translated by world-recognized Egyp- 
tologists and compiled in a most interesting and thorough manner by a 
man whose life prepared him for this accomplishment. Ulrich Stein 
dorff Carrington, author of this work, is the son of the late Dr. George 
Steindorff, world-famous Egyptologist, and former consultant for the 
Rosicrucian Museum. 

This is a book designed for your reading pleasure. Beautifully 
bound and printed, with authentic illustrations. Postpaid, only $2.60 
(18/7 sterling). 

V V V 


If your regular book dealer does not have these books in stock, 
and you do not care to wait until he secures them for you, you may 
save time by sending your order direct, with remittance or C.O.D., 
postage prepaid by us. 








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